


Trouble and Tournaments

by emilykatherine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animagus, F/M, Humor, Ilvermorny, Ilvermorny House - Thunderbird, Mostly OC stuff, OC is in triwizard tournament, Post-First War with Voldemort, Second War with Voldemort, Sex Dreams, There's a lot of plot, i kind of plan on making this go along until the last book keeping to canon mostly, relationships, snape and OC endgame, so really its like a pentawizard tournament, will adjust and add tags with the story, with eventual happy romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-25 08:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilykatherine/pseuds/emilykatherine
Summary: Eris Burke, 18 and Ilvermorny-raised, transfers to Hogwarts for her last year of school. As the Triwizard Tournament begins, she is thrown into the mess of Voldemort and competing with a fourteen-year-old Harry. Between this and her developing infatuation with Severus Snape, Eris has a lot going on.Or, Severus Snape is grumpy and Eris likes a challenge.(I took a year off of this fic, but I'm back now!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
This is a fanfiction based on J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter (if you haven't figured that out yet). All of her characters, setting, and dialogue belong to her. So far, Dumbledore's speech (next chapter) is word-for-word from the Goblet of Fire. I literally had a copy open when I wrote that. It's just for authentic purposes, though. If I use anything else word-for-word from the books, I will identify it in the chapter notes.  
Also, this chapter is very short in comparison to what my next chapter(s) are/will be. Bear with me for now! This is just a quick meeting scene.   
Thank you guys for reading! Feel free to comment any suggestions and leave kudos if you like it!

__ _A group of wizards sat at a table. They discussed many things: Boys Who Lived, dragons, tournaments, and a very interesting girl that could be used quite nicely._

* * *

“Eris, don’t you just adore Quidditch? Do they have it in America?”

Nora Burke, my lovely and talkative cousin, points at the speedy Seekers and feisty Chasers. I nod along to her words, only half listening. I would answer that, yes, we do have Quidditch in America, but she has already moved on. Her golden waves match mine, speaking to our shared heritage. As one of the ‘Sacred’ 28, our spots in the stands of the Quidditch Cup Finals have been saved for a hundred years. Yet, as I watch the plethora of normal wizards on the stands below, a pang reverberates in my chest.

America has Quidditch, yes, but I remember going to American football games. Tackling and running and a bunch of teenagers cheering on their classmates as they pounded into each other. I smile as I watch the cheering crowd. My friends and I at Ilvermorny would sneak out on weekends and venture to the nearest town. It was a small town, and they enjoyed sports way too much. But it was fun, a sense of community.

One that I don’t have in the UK. Technically, I’m a citizen of both England and America. Born in the States, but with British parents, I’m expected to be able to flow back and forth between the two cultures.

Which works in theory, but not when an eighteen-year-old girl has been ripped from the Ilvermorny and forced to transfer to Hogwarts.

Nora stands to cheer for Bulgaria. I make an excuse to find food and leave the VIP area of the stands. I pass by Malfoys and… Weasleys?

I’ve been separated from this country long enough to not have an accent and to not care about the ‘Sacred’ pureblood families. But even I know that this is an incredible sight. There are a few notable figures in this area. I don’t really look at many, just glance at the bushy-haired girl and the other boy sitting with the red-haired purebloods.

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. He’s what, fourteen? Cute. Sucks to be him, though. I would have died from all that attention at his age. So, in respect to this, I don’t glance at him again as I leave.

Walking down the stairs, I pull my ponytail out of my blonde waves and let my hair fall to my shoulders. My hair tie finds its way to my wrist. A hand on my wand, I venture through the crowd. I can smell food, where my parents are probably hanging out. They can’t leave our new flat without running into people they grew up with. An event like this… they must not have even noticed that the game had even started.

I’m in my head, distracted, when I slam into him. A random guy. I wince and step away.

“Hey, I’m so sorry,” I try to smile. This guy is not having it, though. His dark hair is pulled back into a knot. He wears the semi-muggle clothes that some of the wizards around us have tried to pull off. Dark pants and boots, but also a green t-shirt. An Ireland supporter, I guess.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps.

This, for some reason, makes me angry. He’s in his mid-to-late thirties, and obviously a more experienced wizard, but I bite back at him.

“It takes two to slam into each other chest-to-chest, dude,” I scoff.

“’Dude’?” he wrinkles his nose.

“Yes, dude. That’s how I refer to people who are rude to me after I’m polite to them.”

For a moment, I’m distracted by his black eyes. They match his black hair, but there is so much more than color to them. For a moment, I see reflected anger and annoyance. There’s a bite to them that takes my breath for a second.

He only scowls at me and begins to walk away. And I make my first big, unknown mistake of my life.

“I’m Eris,” I say, stepping in front of him. I stick my hand out. The man looks at my hand in disgust, then to me. He doesn’t say a thing. “I’m from the States. There, when someone introduces themselves, it’s proper to shake their hand.”

The man shakes my hand out of spite instead of politeness. For some reason, it makes me want to laugh. But I keep a straight face, though I can’t help the friendly tilt of my lips.

“Severus,” he replies. For some reason, the name rings a bell. But then again, my grandmother (my mother’s mother, the Burke and pureblood snob) has gossiped about every wizard and witch in Europe, I think.

“It’s nice to meet you, Severus,” I smile. At this, his eyes widen just a bit. My grin falters. I forget that friendliness to strangers is a uniquely American trait. Both wizards and muggles have commented on my behavior.

But I’m a sucker for punishment, so I continue: “You’re an Ireland fan, then?” I point to his green shirt.

“No,” he says harshly. Simply. As if the syllable hurt to squeeze out.

I shrug. “I’m not a Bulgaria fan,” I gesture to my crimson sweater. “But my cousin insisted we show loyalty. One of the players is an aunt’s half-sister’s husband or something like that.”

“Do you always talk this much?” Severus growls.

I tilt my head. “Well, not to strangers. But since you almost knocked me to the dirt a moment ago, I would say we’re familiar enough for a conversation.”

Severus’s nostrils flare, and I think I hear a chuckle. It’s very faint, but I smile, nonetheless. His expression is still annoyed, though.

“So, you’re not really a fan of the Irish, and I’m not really a fan of Quidditch in general. I’m here because my cousin begged me to come. Why are you here? Is there a dark-haired cousin lurking around, trying to talk your ear off like mine is?”

Another nostril flare and exhale. I’m really killing it, honestly.

“It’s not much your business, but I’m just here for the occasion.” He glances down at me (he’s very tall). “I didn’t catch your family name.”

“Burke.” With this, he freezes. Like, actually stops breathing. I raise my eyebrows. “Severus? Oh, don’t tell me that you’re one of those people that believes all the pure blood superiority nonsense.” Then, I realize that I truly shouldn’t be insulting the beliefs that most purebloods hold to a stranger. I wince.

“Miss Burke, you wouldn’t happen to be transferring to Hogwarts this coming year, would you?”

I frown. “Yes, for my last year of school. How did you know that?”

As soon as the question leaves my mouth, arms embrace me. I step back, startled. My wand is out and pointing at the assailant. The attacker, however, is the blonde-haired and bubbly Nora. I sigh and pocked my wand before she or anyone can notice my paranoia.

“Nora, what the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”

Nora pulls back, about to chastise me for leaving her so long, when she sees Severus. Her whole body freezes in about the same way he did when I said my last name.

“Professor Snape,” Nora clears her throat. My eyebrows draw together. I look between her and Severus. _Oh_.

“Miss Burke,” Severus clears his throat. His whole demeanor has changed. Well, not really. It never faded from the annoyed dude-I-just-body-slammed-in-to, but now he’s managed to be even stiffer and cold.

Nora looks at me. There’s a flush in her cheeks. From fear and awkwardness, I think. Odd.

“Eris—though I’m sure you’ve already introduced yourself—this is Professor Snape. He’s the Potions Master at Hogwarts, and my Head of House. Hopefully yours, too.”

I turn to Severus. I blink. In just a moment, his hair has been let down and he wears dark robes. I look at Nora. She doesn’t acknowledge the wardrobe change. Hm. Transfiguration? Charm? Perhaps I broke it by running in to him.

“Slytherin Head of House?” I say in a questioning tone. That’s why his first name was familiar. My grandmother would definitely have talked about this man. And… something else is at the tip of my tongue. Something important about this man. I should’ve paid attention to my grandmother’s obnoxious opinions about everyone.

“That’s correct, Miss Burke,” he says to me. I frown. He was calling me by my first name just minutes ago. Disappointment shocks me. Why do I care? I should be embarrassed that I almost talked my future professor.

“Anyway, Eris,” Nora starts to pull me closer to her. “Your dad told me to find you. We really should be going before he worries.” She turns to Severus. “It was good seeing you Professor! We’ll see you soon!”

With that, Nora pulls me into the crowd. I turn around, but Severus has disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris is Sorted and meets fellow Slytherins at the feast

“We are very glad to have you here, Miss Burke,” Professor Dumbledore tells me. At my side, my parents each squeeze my shoulders. I don’t think they know that they’re doing it. That’s how in sync Primrose Burke and Thelonious Batt are.

A pureblood royal and a pureblood commoner, they met here at Hogwarts. They must’ve been complete opposites when they came here, though. My maternal grandmother has her gossiping ways, but my paternal grandparents are soft and caring. Spoiling me with kindness instead of the latest information about the misdeeds of other purebloods.

As if my parents’ marriage wasn’t a scandal eighteen years ago. If my father had been anything less than a pureblood, with pureblood parents, my mother would have been disowned and cast out from the family.

The two are so happy for me to be here. It’s quite a hassle to move before my last year of school, but their constant smiles and joy from seeing their old friends has made it worth it. We’re a small family but we’re a close one.

“Eris, dear?” my mother frowns. I stop twirling my wand and look up. They each have expectant expressions that let me know that I’ve been too distracted in my head and missed something.

“I’m sorry, I missed what was said,” I admit. There’s not a lot to do to save myself from embarrassment. My mother gives me a _look_. Leftover from her own parents, I’ve seen Sacred pureblood mothers give their children looks that stopped _my _heart, even as an unintended witness.

“I asked what your wand core was crafted from, Miss Burke,” Dumbledore repeats himself.

“Phoenix feather,” I answer. “Why?”

The long-bearded man tilts his head. I realize that I’ve started twirling my wand again. This time catch the wand and stick it up my sleeve. Hopefully it’ll stay there. My mother’s hand brushes against my arm. Not a reprimand, just a loving caress. She knows my quirks, how I get lost in my own head and fidget when I do.

“Curiosity,” he answers. Then he breezes past the question, without a proper explanation: “If it is alright, we can sort you now, Miss Burke.”

I swallow. My mother’s hand tenses. My father’s just squeezes once. Reassuringly. That’s the way my quiet father has always been. A silent, constant support. He was in Ravenclaw. My mother, and all the Burkes I’ve met, were sorted into Slytherin. That’s where Nora is now.

It wouldn’t surprise me that between the Burkes and Malfoys, Slytherin would be a House of blondes from ranges white to gold. Our two families are related, supposedly. But then, all of the ‘Sacred 28’ are.

“I’m in Thunderbird, Professor,” I reply. I was Sorted long ago, at Ilvermorny.

“Yes, dear,” my father speaks for the first time. “We know that you’re proud of being in the Thunderbird House at Ilvermorny. Hogwarts is different, though, dear. Houses live and eat and go to classes together. As an older student, you won’t deal with it as much… but it is still necessary. Unless you wish to sleep in the hallways, your House will be your dorm.” His joke makes me smile. He’s always been good at sensing when my nervousness is about to translate to sharp remarks and defensiveness.

I swallow and nod. “Fine. Where’s the mythical and legendary Sorting Hat? I was raised on stories about Hogwarts. It’ll be nice to see a celebrity.”

Professor McGonagall, who my mother gushed over earlier, steps back into the room with the dusty thing. I frown at it. I was picturing something… cleaner. More impressive. Yet, if I’ve learned anything about magic, it’s that looks can be deceiving.

I sit down on the nearest chair in the Headmaster’s office. I wince as the older woman sets the hat on my head. All my thoughts are of my Thunderbird affiliation. The House of adventurers, the soul of Ilvermorny.

_Why, hello, little Thunderbird._

I smile. _Hello, large hat, _I reply.

_Ah! A comedian! Among other things, I’m seeing. Thunderbird doesn’t overlap perfectly with any of our Houses. I have a song I sing, but Minerva did not give me a chance to perform for you. Alas, you will see it when the first years are Sorted soon. _

The hat continues, _I see many things inside of you. Sorting is tricky at an older age, you see. You have learned so much about life that your traits are numerous and detailed. I see friendliness, empathy. But also coldness. Intelligence, definitely. Manipulative abilities. A good liar, are you? Hm. Your Thunderbird sorting will weight heavily here… But what is this? Your mother is Primrose Burke! She was an interesting girl. And she married your father, Theo! Oh, how curious._

_Between being a Thunderbird, pureblood, and just who you are, I shall have to Sort you… _

“SLYTHERIN!”

I open my eyes to see very different expressions among the older wizards. My father is pale, and his eyes are alight with concern. My mother is slightly smiling with pride. Dumbledore has a blank expression, and McGonagall’s matches my father’s.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, as she takes the hat off of my head.

“The Sorting took thirty minutes, Miss Burke,” McGonagall answers.

I frown. “It didn’t feel that long.”

“It never does,” Dumbledore answers, an airy expression in his voice. “Either way, we must hurry along to meet Professor Snape, your Head of House.”

I keep my wince in. I’ve met Snape—met him chest to chest. Had a casual conversation with him until he learned who I was.

I say goodbye to my parents. It’s tearful on my mother’s end, but sweet. They’ll see me soon for winter break, and I have freedom as a seventh year. Perhaps I'll be able to visit.

Dumbledore leads me out of his office, while McGonagall stays to converse with my parents. They’ll leave soon, she says.

“I’m excited to see what you think of Hogwarts with Ilvermorny experience,” Dumbledore says. “Don’t be surprised if I call you aside one day to inquire. It is all terribly interesting, I must confess. Other schools have different experiences. I think we all could benefit from being around students of other schools, don’t you think?”

I raise my eyebrows. There’s something off here, but I respond. “Yes. Different schools emphasize different subjects. Ilvermorny teaches wandless magic, in respect to the Native Americans who practiced without the wand. And our wands are… treated differently. I’m sure you know we don’t receive them until after we are Sorted.”

My wand has made its way out of my sleeve as I fiddle with it. The carvings on it are worn from my endless touch.

“Your mother wrote to me about an Excellence in Potions Cup?”

“Oh, yes. We have a few awards we can gain in Ilvermorny. Each House competes for a number of them.”

“And you were influential in the Thunderbirds gaining that achievement?”

I hesitate. To be humble or truthful? “I was influential, yes.” Humble, it is. 

We’re still walking the empty stone hallways when I see Severus. He’s coming from the direction of stairs heading downward.

His hair is down, like after he transformed at the Quidditch Cup. His dark robes are identical. For some reason, I want to see him in his t-shirt. The green that brought out the sun in his pulled-back hair. I look him down and smile a little. The boots are the same.

“Severus! May I introduce you to Miss Eris Burke. She’s just been Sorted into Slytherin. She comes from Ilvermorny,” Dumbledore says.

I swallow and step forward. Severus’s expression gives away nothing, and so I school mine to polite indifference. Yet I can’t help sticking out my hand.

“Good to meet you, Professor Snape,” I nod. The man glances at my hand once before taking it. That was easier than the first time, admittedly.

“Hm,” is all he responds. “Since all of the students were sorted six years ago, there are no open dorms for seventh year girls. You’ll take a spare Head student room.”

“Better than rooming with eleven-year-olds,” I admit.

“Severus, if you would be so kind as to escort Miss Burke to the Welcoming Feast, I have some business to attend to,” Dumbledore says. I want to beg the man to stay, for the first time wanting him to be near me.

Severus answers with another grunt. Dumbledore interprets this as an affirmation. He must, because he leaves.

When he’s gone, I turn to Severus.

“How have you been?” I ask. The commotion after the Cup Final was horrible and panic-inducing. I had to drag Nora away and Apparate with her. My parents trusted me to get away on my own, and we met at the Burke mansion after a few minutes of confusion.

But there was one thing no one was confused about: The Dark Mark glittered in the sky that night. If I hadn’t had Nora to worry about (she was going between screaming, crying, and trying to push me away), I would’ve stayed to help the poor No-Maj victims.

“Busy,” is all Severus responds. He begins walking, and I struggle to keep up. His legs are long, and he shows no concern for my skill in getting lost.

“Busy with lesson planning? Potion-brewing? _Not _cheering on the Irish? Or just sitting in a chair and scowling?” I smile. The man stops walking and turns to me with a hostile expression.

I flinch away. He continues walking.

A few seconds pass in silence. “I’m sorry to offend you, Professor,” I mutter.

He doesn’t respond, but it’s alright. We’ve already come to large, ornate doors. They open into a giant room. It’s… different. There are four separate tables for each House, I assume. Severus has stopped, but I continue walking. I look up at the carvings and watch a few ghosts float around. Something glitters in the air in front of me. I reach out to grab it, but it flies away just before I can. I find myself smiling at the giant room.

When I turn to frowning Severus, it fades. “It’s impressive architecture. Castles are interesting, don’t you think?”

“Slytherin sits there,” he nods towards one of the tables. With that as a farewell, he walks to the front of the room.

I huff at his rudeness and move to sit in a random chair in the room. A minute passes before the room starts to transform. Golden and glittering plates and goblets appear, as well do hundreds of lit candles. The light reflects off of the metal. The candles move to float above the tables. I try to reach up and catch one, but it dodges me before rising to settle in its assigned spot.

Another few minutes pass. And suddenly, the doors fly open. In comes hundreds of students in a rainbow of robes. I’m amazed at the sight. I’ve always been one of the students, but this is almost the perspective of a fly on the wall. On one side of me, the staff sits regally. On the other side, joyful and happy students are eager to start the new year. Ahead, ghosts linger by favored students, sometimes swooping down to talk to them.

Eventually, Slytherin students make their way to the table. Most give me odd looks. Either paranoid or excited or curious or devious—the faces of so many people looking at me makes my pulse throb in my head.

“Eris!” a familiar voice cries out. In a moment, Nora is slamming into my side (mind you, I’m still sitting down). She hugs me tight. “I knew you’d be Sorted into Slytherin! No respectable Burke would be anywhere else. I didn’t tell you that because I didn’t want you to be nervous, you know.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Or you wanted to see if I could pass the test.” I was joking, but the girl blushes in a way to make me think that there’s some truth to my statement. She’s saved from replying by some other older students coming over.

Nora instantly takes to introducing me to some of her sixth-year friends. I smile and do my best to remember their names. When some seventh years approach me, Nora quietly backs off to my side. I’ve stood up by now, and I’m glad for it.

A raven-haired girl with bright grey eyes steps up to me. Her green-accented robes are impeccable. Her white, snow-colored skin appears perfect in the soft yellow glow of the candles. She tilts her head and crosses her arms.

“I’m Wren Abbot,” she says. The way she emphasizes her surname and my vigorous memorization of the past week informs me that she’s one of the ‘Sacred.’ I keep from rolling my eyes. My remarks to Severus about not believing in the pureblood superiority bullshit won’t keep up in this place, it doesn’t seem. What is it that they call some of the purebloods that have fallen from grace? ‘Blood Traitor’?

“Eris Burke,” I nod at her. Her eyes tighten. She doesn’t extend a hand, and for some reason, I am not inclined to. Instinct warns me not to give this viper anything to bite on. My hand, or any weaknesses I may have.

“You’re the American cousin than Nora hasn’t shut up about?” Wren scoffs. She looks me up and down. “The one with the commoner father?”

Nora blushes. “I didn’t—I didn’t even mention—”

I don’t say anything to Nora, just squeeze her shoulder. I’m not angry. In fact, I expected for this to come up sooner or later.

“That would be me. But I prefer Eris, instead of ‘the American with the commoner father.’ It makes calling my name into a much shorter event.”

A few students, both older and younger, chuckle.

“You were at the Quidditch Cup, weren’t you?” a young voice speaks up. I turn and instantly recognize the white hair. “You were in our box.”

I nod at the Malfoy kid. “That’s right. It sucks about that score. We were rooting for Bulgaria,” I gesture to Nora. With that, the tension among the students dissolves. The conversations begin to talk about the game itself, and then the situation afterwards.

Wren is still glaring at me when Nora pulls me to where the sixth and seventh years sit. A girl across from me introduces her as Agatha—Aggie—Starling. She has light brown hair matching her tan skin. Dark eyes lighten when they see me.

“So, you’ve been in the UK for the summer?” she asks.

“No. I came early for the Cup.” I wrinkle my nose. “I would rather spend my summers on the beach in Alabama or Florida than in Britain.” I pause. “No offense.”

Aggie laughs. “Oh, Eris, none taken. This is the rainiest, gloomiest country I’ve ever been to. And the people to match, unfortunately.”

“Oi, Aggie, I hope you’re not talking about me!” someone calls before plopping down next to her. A guy with amber eyes, brown curls, and a flirtatious smile looks at me as he speaks to Aggie. I raise my eyebrows. “Who’s this bird?”

“_This bird_,” I begin, “is Eris. Nice to meet you.”

“Polite! A stereotype if I’ve ever seen one. Are you loud as well?”

“You would’ve heard that already, wouldn’t you, Ben?” Aggie scoffs.

“Ah, true.” Ben turns his golden eyes on me. “Benjamin Flint, at your service. The comedic relief and drop-dead gorgeous pureblood among these heathens.” He says heathens, but only points to Aggie. She rolls her eyes.

“What part of the States are you from, Eris?” Aggie ignores Ben.

I laugh. “One of the Northwestern cold states.”

“A square one?”

Another laugh from me. I like this Aggie girl. “One of those. I forget the name now.”

Aggie chuckles, but the room quiets. I look up and see that McGonagall has stood. Nora takes my arm and whispers in my ear, “Do you think Dumbledore will introduce you in front of everyone?”

I wince at her suggestion. “Merlin, I hope not.”

The Sorting begins with the hat’s song, which he mentioned to me earlier. The young kids look terrified as they watch it perform. The highlights of his performance: Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are clever, Hufflepuffs are hard workers, and Slytherin are power-hungry and ambitious. Great. I feel like any of the other Houses would have been better to be in, morally. But I wince. ‘_A good liar, are you?’_ The hat had said about me.

McGonagall reads off the names of the first years, and they put the hat on their head. Some children take a few seconds, the other a few minutes. It’s an interesting affair, full of clapping and cheering from the older students.

“At Ilvermorny,” I lean over to talk to Aggie, Ben, and Nora. “We are silent while the newbies are chosen by the statues.”

“That sounds…” Nora begins, but trails off.

“Boring?” Ben huffs.

“_Ritual_,” Aggie supplies. She smiles at me. “It sounds like a serious and humbling ritual. I would love to see it one day.”

I smile at her. Ilvermorny holds a special place in my heart. I grew up around magic, but my parents exposed me to No-Maj society just as much. It was magical in a completely different way to see all kinds of students Sorted.

“I heard that more than one of the statues can claim a student,” Ben interjects.

I nod. “It happens. I’ve only seen it a few times.”

“Didn’t happen with you?” Wren crawls into the conversation. Her voice is… bitchy, for lack of a better word.

I smile at her, as nicely as I can. “I was Sorted into Thunderbird. The soul of a wizard. I’m pretty comfortable with my House. I know where I belong.” I say the words with a pleasant expression, but my tone has a double meaning. _Back off_, I tell her underneath my politeness.

Dumbledore stands at the front of the room, distracting us all. “I have only two words to say to you; _Tuck in!_”

Food fizzles into existence around us, and I grin. My stomach grumbles in response to the sight and smell. I fill my plate, exchanging words with Nora comparing it to the cooking at our grandmother’s house. Not that she cooked at all. Just different house elves.

The meal passes peacefully, until Nora nudges my side and nods up to the front of the room. For the first time in an hour, my gaze goes to Severus. He’s watching Dumbledore call attention from the room. I’m too far away to see, but I imagine that his black eyes are just as complex as before.

“So!” Dumbledore says to a silent room. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four-hundred-and-thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

I scoff at the number and the idea of anyone taking the time to read that list. Dumbledore continues: “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” The table around me is gasping and angry at this announcement. I’m alright with not sitting in the cold to support Slytherin, but this development concerns me. Why wouldn’t they have Quidditch? My parents were talking about how important the sport was to the “Hogwarts Experience.”

Dumbledore explains, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy—but I’m sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—”

I’m hanging off of every word the man says, eager for him to hurry up and explain. I’m so focused that I jump when the doors of the Great Hall crash open. A man stands in the now-open space of the doorway. He is dressed in black, reminiscent of Severus’s outfit. Lightning startles me even more, coming from the sky-illusioned ceiling. The man shakes his head, grey hair flying.

He walks up to the staff table with loud clunks echoing through the room. Nora’s hand grips mine. Her face doesn’t show anything like recognition. Another lightning flashes, but I’m too focused on this man to focus. All of the Professors are strangers to me, but this guy is new to all of the students. I’m concerned enough to keep a hand on Nora’s upper arm. There’s no Apparition in Hogwarts, but I’m fully capable of hauling tail out of this room, Nora dragging behind me.

I can’t see the man’s face, but I see the outline of something protruding… from his eye? The man shakes Dumbledore’s hand, and I can’t help but laughing inside. _There, Severus. That’s how it should go_. The man takes a spot at the table, and the Headmaster continues his speech.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore says, his voice forcefully cheery in the face of that dramatic entrance. “Professor Moody.” Dumbledore and the half-giant clap, but no one else does. Which isn’t surprising. The strange man is eating his meal like nothing just happened.

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore manages to draw attention back to himself, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” someone from the Gryffindor table calls out. I chuckle along with the room, though few Slytherins join me. Aggie gives me a small smile, but I can feel a few stares form the table. _Tough crowd_.

“That’s one of the Weasley twins,” Nora explains. “Avoid them at all cost if you want to keep your feet the size they are now.”

I almost spit out my drink.

“I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore chuckles. “Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar… Er—but maybe this is not the time… no… Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely.”

The Headmaster goes on the explain that Hogwarts will host Beauxbatons and Durmstrang schools for the tournament. This is all news to me, since the tournament hasn’t happened in years and never in Ilvermorny. Apparently, the Triwizard Tournament used to be quite dangerous. Now, though, it shouldn’t be. By the time the old man finishes explaining, I’m excited to watch it.

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

I perk up at that. My family is fine, even without the Burke riches. My mother is a private collector and seller of rare magical goods from paintings to wands, and my father now works in the Ministry. Exactly what he does, I don’t know. Which is on purpose—they have him on some really specific task force at the moment. Either way, we’ve always been comfortable. But personal funds? To do whatever with when I graduate from Hogwarts?

If only I had the time or energy to compete. Even if I truly wanted to, I doubt I would be allowed to as a new student. Dumbledore explains the age limit for the tournament and that the other school delegates will arrive in October and will spend most of the year in Hogwarts. With that, the Headmaster dismisses us to go to our dorms. I’m grateful he never mentioned my presence.

Nora keeps hold of my hand as we follow the crowd of Slytherins.

“I’m totally entering,” Ben announces. A few of the seventh year Slytherins chuckle at him, seeming to know that he’s kidding.

“Aggie should,” one girl in our year says. There’s no cruelty or joking in her tone, just a suggestion.

“No, Mandie. I don’t think I should,” Aggie replies. She likes her. Perhaps it just seems like shyness or an unwillingness to be in a competition that was previously deadly, but I see her body stiffen and her blush.

Nora pulls me away from the rest of the Slytherins discussing who should enter to compete. We follow the group of first years and Head Boy and Girl. The Prefects help corral the herd.

“Where are you sleeping?” she asks.

“I get a spare room,” I shrug. Nora’s eyes widen.

“No way! _You_ get the spare Head Boy room?”

“Is it a Head Boy room if I’m sleeping in it, though?” I grin. “What’s the big deal?”

Nora glances around to make sure the other students aren’t listening. “It’s known as the hook up room. But of course, it’s kind of hidden when no one is staying in it. So, they say, that if two Slytherins are desperate to _you know_, the room will appear to them.”

I laugh. I can’t help the loud, amused sound. It attracts some attention, and I have to cover my mouth. “That’s hilarious. Nora Lee Burke, I haven’t laughed that loudly for weeks.”

Nora’s smile is tentative and pure. Here, I’ve seen her expressions shift to look to Wren and other girls and boys for praise or confirmation when she says or does something. It makes me sad, to see this normally bubbly and carefree girl reduced to social pressure. I grip her hand. She may be annoying and talk my ear off, but she’s my responsibility. My first friend in this country, since we were young.

I keep track of our way when we arrive in the dungeons. If it were just me and Nora, I would assume she was pranking me. But we’re with the first years, older students behind us. _Oh, God. I’m going to be living underground._

Before we get to our destination, Nora leads me past the group of first years. The Head Boy gives Nora a look before we get to the front of the group.

“I pulled you up here to warn you and get this out of the way,” Nora begins, putting distance between us and the casually strolling group.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly concerned.

“The portrait we have to pass to get to the common room… Her name is Elizabeth Burke. She’s our great-great-great-great-or-however-many-greats grandmother. And she’s… well. You’re about to meet her.”

Sure enough, we come up on a portrait of a woman in older clothes and with a frown that seems permanent.

“Who is this, Nora?” the woman says snidely.

“I’m Eris,” I tell her. Step in front of Nora, who Elizabeth is glaring at. “It’s nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”

The woman turns her ferocious glare on me. “One of my descendants, are you?” She sniffs at me. “Pathetic. Your outfit is atrocious.” I’m just wearing simple, but nice, robes. My parents will be mailing me Slytherin styles very soon. “Your demeanor is aggressive and rude. Merlin! Who was your mother?”

“Primrose,” I answer simply. In the distance, I hear the nearing Slytherin parade.

“Bah! That girl always had her head in the clouds! With her _ideas_ so far from tradition. It worried me—and now here is her offspring. Proof, indeed, of her incompetency as a Burke!”

I step closer to the portrait, half-tempted to give in to anger and rip the canvas. Nora puts a hand on my arm, though.

“She did this about my mum, too,” Nora whispers. Aunt Thyme is a Burke through and through—a pureblood superiority nonsense believer. And if _that_ wasn’t good enough for this woman… I relax. There’s no need to argue with Elizabeth.

“I’m sorry you think that, Elizabeth. You’re wrong, but it’s your right to be so.”

With that, the Head Boy asks us to move aside as he explains the entrance protocol to the first years. I listen in, too. Elizabeth is distracted by criticizing the new flock. When the Head Boy confidently announces the password, I’m glad to see her portrait move. Nora and I duck in first.

“Your room will be this way,” Nora pulls me away from the direction most of the older students are heading. We pass the dorms for the first years. The whole common room and halls are covered in green and silver. There are posters on the wall, old signs once held up during Quidditch matches. A few bookshelves hold some interesting looking tomes.

I’ll be glad to explore… tomorrow. This whole day has me exhausted.

Nora leads me to the room I’m staying in. I’ll have my own bathroom, she thinks, because it’s usually meant to be a guest room and moved around Hogwarts as its needed. That seems odd to me, but I roll with it.

My cousin leaves me to explore the room on my own. The door opens silently. My luggage is in a neat pile in the center of the room. I smile as I take in the space. The bed is a queen with a veil around the sides. In the corner of the room is an empty bookshelf and comfy-looking chair. There’s a fireplace and wardrobe. A desk and chair rest on the opposite side of the room. The rug underneath my feet is a dark green.

A door leads me to discover that, yes, I do have my own bathroom. Best not to mention this to anyone, I think. There’s a tub and toilet, as well as an ancient-looking sink and decorated mirror.

I light the candle lamp and unpack my clothes. I want to go to bed, but I know that I’ll be so out of it in the morning that I’ll forget to wear socks or bring books with me to class. So, I set everything out before stripping off my robes to my underwear and climbing into bed.

For a moment, my mind is blank as I try to find sleep.

Then, I have a shocking thought: _What does Severus’s rooms look like?_

I groan and turn over in my bed. I’ll likely see the man tomorrow, as the Potions Master and the Head of Slytherin. For some reason, this excites me. He seems so grumpy and mean, and he hasn’t exactly been friendly ever. Even before he knew I was his student.

But for a moment… I think we could’ve been friends. Had a normal conversation over a general apathy for Quidditch.

I roll over again. This time, I’m successful at clearing my mind and sleep takes me at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore's speech and Fred's outburst are from the book directly. Eris's reactions, opinions, and observations are not.  
Thank you guys for reading! Let me know below what you guys are wanting to see in this fic! I'm curious to know what you're thinking vs. what I'm planning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris explores Hogwarts and classes begin.

In the morning, I manage to wake up before all of Slytherin, it seems. I dress in my new uniform (thanks, mom and dad). The black skirt reaches almost to my knees. Black tights under that and a dark grey sweater over my white blouse. It’s a lot of layers. What really makes the look is the green and silver tie that I struggle with when I step out of my room. Fashionable, Hogwarts is not. 

These uniforms are much more… rigid than what I’m used to. But then again, Massachusetts had both hot and cold weather. From what I’ve heard, Scotland… does not. I fold my robes across my arm as I leave the common room. I haven’t seen a living soul yet today, and I’m glad for it.

Before breakfast, I want to explore these dungeons. If I’m going to be living in a dreary underground den, I might as well be familiar with it. Perhaps it’s the adventurer in me, but I want to find the secrets of this place.

Elizabeth is snoring when I leave, thankfully. I don’t know if I could stand another verbal battle with the woman. I quickly cast a silencing charm on my shoes, making my steps silent as I venture through the stone-walled hallways.

Most of the doors I find open to empty rooms. Classrooms, I assume. Are there actual _classes_ down here? Or, perhaps the empty rooms had something to do with the fact that this basement is called the _dungeons_. If it was once a true dungeon, then there must have been people detained and jailed here.

After that realization, I make a point to step into the empty classrooms and glance around. I look for manacles, bolts in the brick. Anywhere that there may have been a jail wall or chains.

“Miss Burke, do you intend to eat, or just stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong?”

Severus. I turn around. He stands in his black robes. Black hair down. Sneer permanently facing toward me.

“Is it really breakfast? Time travels so weirdly here, in this dungeon. No sunlight, you know?” I try to distract him with my nonsense small talk. But his face just becomes graver.

“Yes, Miss Burke. Your cousin has been harassing staff and students to inquire about your whereabouts. She wished me to check your room, since she has no key.” The heavy metal key in my pocket pulls on me in this moment. “Either way, you’ve managed to waste my time already today. Now, come with me to the Great Hall. Perhaps your cousin will have passed out from a lack of oxygen due to all of her… words.”

My lips twist into a half-hidden smile at the idea of Nora passed out from all of her babbling. At least he doesn’t get on to me for exploring. I truly hadn’t meant to waste the morning away by combing through the cold, wet dungeons.

I follow Severus silently. I’ve learned by now that he’s not a conversationalist. Questions about the dungeons, about his potions class, about _him_ linger at the tip of my tongue, but I push them back.

“Did the room manage to accommodate you well, Miss Burke?” Severus asks. I almost stop walking from shock. Did this quiet, cold man just ask _me_ how I’m doing? Someone call the farmers—pigs are about to start flying.

“It did. It’s very nice, actually. I’m sure I’ll happily laze away weekends in it.”

Severus doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s enchanted, for your sake, to prevent any other students from entering. Only you or staff members are allowed to. There are some rumors about the spare Head room in Slytherin that would become cumbersome for someone actually living in the space.”

I chuckle. Nora told me about the rumors. “I’m glad that I won’t find any naughty Slytherins in my bed. Thank you.”

A grunt from Severus, and we are out of the dungeons.

“Do you live in the dungeons, too?” I ask before any intelligent part of my mind can stop my mouth. I’m a step behind Severus, so luckily, he can’t see my blush.

“I’m the Head of Slytherin, Miss Burke. I have to live near my charges in case of emergency.” So, yes. Interesting. He, surprisingly, continues, “My classroom and office are in the dungeons as well. I’m surprised you did not find them while you snooped.”

My mouth manages to simultaneously wince and smile in an unattractive way. “I was actually looking for evidence that there were once prisoners held down here. Do you know anything about that?”

Severus snorts. “Once, centuries ago, they were. There won’t be any spare chains anywhere, if that’s what you mean by ‘evidence.’”

I’m disappointed, but the optimistic side of me points out that this means I don’t have to waste my time exploring for such gruesome items. I have a whole castle to get through, anyhow, and only one year to do it.

“Are you excited about the Triwizard Tournament?” I ask. Severus gives me a look and nothing else. I shrug. “I think it’ll be interesting to watch. I wonder who will be chosen from Hogwarts. Anyone who enters has to have huge ball—bravery. Even if they aren’t the Champion.”

I wince at the level of casualty I’m using to speak to my Professor. But it just rolls off of my tongue—I can’t help the way that I want to talk to this guy. I just need to think longer before I speak. Don’t let my words fall out of my mouth naturally.

“Bravery, or stupidity,” Severus replies. I sense that he wants to say more, but we’ve entered the Great Hall. As soon as we do, Nora squeals from the Slytherin table. She sprints over to me, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. I clench my jaw, anxiety building.

“Thank you so much, Professor Snape! I was worried that she had gotten lost in the castle!” Nora exclaims this loud enough for the whole room to hear. I detect a few chuckles and laughs around the room. Mortification colors my cheeks. I’m talented in controlling my facial expressions when it matters, but now… I feel so naked.

“Lost like you did in your first year here, Miss Burke?” Severus snaps to Nora. Suddenly, the attention has shifted from me to Nora. Now, her cheeks are pink as she finally notices all the attention she has drawn. Severus continues, “But your cousin was not lost. Unlike you were, when we had the whole castle searching for you.”

That’s the final nail on the coffin. Severus doesn’t look at me before he turns and walks away, but… There’s a small inkling inside of me that, perhaps, he did that for me.

***

The deal my parents made with Dumbledore was a simple one: I’ll take supplemental classes while I’m at Hogwarts. I’ve already taken NEWT-equivalent tests at Ilvermorny in a few subjects. So, my week will be full of classes in Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Alchemy. I’ll take the most advanced level of classes in those subjects, along with my fellow seventh years.

As per my Ilvermorny specialization, I’m also going to be assigned to Madam Pomfrey for a few days a week to continue to learn Healing magic. My parents may be mysterious in their profession, but I want to be a Healer. Someone that does good in the world… and uses Potions and chemistry to do it.

When I receive my schedule, my level of work for this year finally dawns on me. Monday morning, I have double Care of Magical Creatures. This afternoon, I have double Potions. Tuesday morning, I have double Potions. Great—two double Potions in a row. Tuesday afternoon, though, I have my time with Madam Pomfrey. Wednesday is the same as Tuesday. Thursday morning, though, I have DADA, and Madam Pomfrey in the afternoon. Friday is double Alchemy and then… Blank. I frown and touch the parchment where it’s blank.

When nothing appears, I nudge Nora. “What’s this blank spot?”

Nora glances over, but shrugs. “Free periods. Merlin, Eris! That’s a tough schedule! You’ll need that time. Especially with all those Potions classes.”

“Why? Is Professor Snape hard?”

In front of us, Ben cackles at my words. “Oh, Eris my dear, he’s the worst! Obviously, as his House, we get some favor inside the classroom. But homework is homework, and she is kind to no one.”

“His quill isn’t kind, either,” Aggie pipes up. She’s been staring at that Mandie girl all breakfast, hardly touching her pastry.

I sigh at my schedule. After a second, I fold it up neatly and slide it into one of my books. I own a Care of Magical Creatures textbook, but Nora laughs when she sees it: “You won’t need that! Hagrid doesn’t do anything by the book!” She continues for a few minutes, each word of how unstructured the class is making me more and more worried.

“It’s a fun elective, Eris,” Aggie interjects. “Don’t worry. I think Ben is taking it, too. A future Magizoologist, indeed,” she rolls her eyes at Ben.

Ben, however, nods seriously. “I am very passionate about the subject.”

“You’re passionate about an easy class,” Aggie mutters. She sighs and starts to stand up. I mimic her, as do the students around us. “Ben will take you to Care of Magical Creatures. I’ve got to go to Divination. But I’ll see you in Potions this afternoon, Eris. And lunch before it. Don’t worry.”

I smile at her and Nora, watching them go their way. After a minute, I allow Ben to lead me out of the castle and onto the grounds.

It’s a beautiful campus. Green everywhere—from the plants to the literal greenhouses in the distance. The legendary Whomping Willow stretches as we walk. I’m content to be silent, take in the view, but Ben talks on.

The class passes nicely. Nora was right—the textbook I carried all the way up to Hagrid’s was useless. I actually sit on it rather than the grass while Hagrid explains the task for the day. Just some simple Hippogriff care. I get out of scooping the muck by talking to the half-giant about the creatures we have in America.

“Thunderbirds are my favorite. It was my House, but the creatures themselves…” I trail off, and Hagrid grins at me big and wide. Like he knows what I meant exactly.

Lunch comes before I know it. Ben is covered in mud and hair, but I walk back into the castle pristinely. The meal is loud, with everyone talking about their classes. Already, Moody is making waves with his teaching methods.

By the time Aggie leads me back to the dungeons for Potions, I’m nervous. Severus seems to be as notably harsh as the Whomping Willow.

He’s not there when we get to the classroom. There’s a problem on the board that I solve quickly. I’m helping Aggie work through it when the door flies open. Everyone stops talking. I stare up at Severus as he walks through the class. His arms are tucked behind his back, showing off his height and slight frame. The robes mask much of his silhouette, but I’ve seen it.

“I expect the problem on the board to be completed and returned to me tomorrow. I will give you no further time to work on it during class. Now, stand and assemble your stations.”

The class is succinct and… simple. Severus gives no conflicting instructions. He tells us to do something, make a potion, and we do it. I don’t see the complaints—but it _is_ only the first day.

By the time we are released for dinner, my hair is a damp, blonde mess. My hair always gets greasy and gross after working with potions. Severus seems to suffer from the same affliction. I send Aggie on to dinner, but I escape to my bedroom to wash up. I take a quick shower and dress in just the white blouse and skirt instead of putting on the whole shebang.

As soon as I step out of the empty common room, a voice snaps at me: “You cannot wear such clothing to dinner, Miss Burke.” Severus’s tone is direct. I turn to see him standing past the door. I wouldn’t have even noticed him if he hadn’t spoken.

“What are the rules, Professor?” I ask. “For the uniform, I mean. The whole outfit seems kind of unnecessary, truly.”

“You are required to wear the _complete_ uniform during lessons, while in the Great Hall, Library, and Common Room unless you have a free day.”

I fold my arms across my chest. I’m about to say something snarky and challenging about how dinner should be considered free time, when I notice Severus’s eyes flicker. They quickly glance at my chest before returning to my face. I wouldn’t have caught it if his lips hadn’t pursed in response.

My heart quickens. Had I imagined that? Was he just assessing how much I had broken the rules, exactly? No. No, I’ve seen that before. My chest is developed. Not exactly big, but a good size. A woman’s chest. One that many men and boys have glanced at. Instead of fighting, I swallow.

“I’ll go change, then,” I concede. I whisper the password to Elizabeth (who has been giving me the silent treatment) and watch her open.

I’m stepping into the common room when I hear Severus. “Next time I catch you so underdressed, Miss Burke, I’ll deduct points. I’m not above taking them from my own House.”

Something possesses me, then. I turn and flash the dark-haired man a killer smile. “I would never dream of disobeying _you_, Severus.”

I’m rewarded by the bold statement by seeing his eyes widen just a fraction. The portrait closes just after. Instead of going to my room and changing, I plop down on one of the sofas. My breathing is quick. From the rush of teasing Severus.

No, from _teasing _Professor Snape. Teasing, as in double meaning, obvious _teasing_. I run my hands down my face. _Merlin, Eris. Now you have to avoid him for the rest of the year._

After a few minutes regretting my idiotic words, I stand up to layer on the rest of my uniform. When I pass the hallway to the other dorms, I catch a flash of white hair. I frown at the now empty hallway.

Shaking my head, I let my grumbling stomach lead me to my room and then to where dinner is served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I know that the Snape/Eris romance is progressing slowly, but I promise that it's coming. Soon, the real action begins. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris's first DADA class at Hogwarts results in chaos.

The days pass easily. I get into a pattern with Aggie, Ben, and Nora when she can get away from her sixth-year friends. Classes are strenuous and tiring. I do my homework and studying alone in my bedroom, by the fireplace.

Of course, there is always drama somewhere in Hogwarts that I get wind of. Harry Potter turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret and Severus intervened—stuff between the younger kids is a constant murmur in my life. But among my own age group, there is relationship drama. Sex and partying happening on the sly. Every ingredient to make the waters among Wren and her group full of snakes and sharks. I’m not the only one who treads carefully.

Drama and excitement find its way to me on the fourth day of school. It’s my first Defense Against the Dar Arts class. A double, as most of my classes are. I sit next to Aggie, who plays with her quill. My wand spins between my fingers with ease.

“No books,” the weird-eyed man says as a greeting. I raise my eyebrows, and slowly close my textbook. Moody hobbles to the front of the room, waiting for all of us to get our books out of sight.

“What the hell,” I mutter to Aggie as I fold my knapsack over the remaining sight of the book. “I spent money on all these textbooks that I, turns out, _don’t_ need.”

Aggie is about to respond when Moody continues. He calls out roll. I stare at his wandering mechanical, magical eye. It seems to linger over us, one by one. When it gets to me, the hair on the back of my neck raises.

“Now,” he says when he is finished. “This is the most advanced DADA class that Hogwarts offers, yes?” I don’t say anything, but a couple of Gryffindor students in the corner of the room nod. The man continues, “Well, I’m still communicating with Professor Lupin about what he taught you kids last year. We’ve been prioritizing the younger ones, you see. For now, I’ll just stick to a higher level of what I’m teaching the fourth years today. Curses!”

I want to groan, but I do my best to reserve judgement. If he starts reviewing the basic curses… I think I’ll lose my mind. I could learn more about the Dark Arts by sticking around at the Quidditch Cup a little more than a month ago.

“The Ministry of Magic wants me to teach you guys about countercurses. The difficult ones, because of the class level, but just countercurses nonetheless.” Moody pauses. “Since you’re older than sixth year, I’m sure that you’ve seen the Dark curses.” This makes me sit up. Excitement and anxiety mix in my blood as Moody takes out a jar of spiders.

“_Imperio!”_ he shouts at one of the poor things. Moody makes it perform for us, but I stare at the man instead. The way his eye is still inspecting us. Most of the students, of all Houses, look uncomfortable. Slytherin, though… We are the least bothered group, it seems. No one seems to laugh at the spider’s dance.

Moody talks, “The Imperius Curse, as I’m sure most of you know, was used to excuse many Death Eaters’ actions. The Ministry had to find the true victims and the sufferers. I’m sure you intelligent lot are aware that one can fight the curse from within. Unfortunately, our dear subject hasn’t got the ability.”

He puts the spider back in the jar, freeing it from his grasp. I stare at the spider, shaking itself out. Then, he grabs the next. Enlarges it and performs the Cruciatus Curse. Silently, the spider writhes in pain. Aggie’s breath catches next to me. I stare at the beast.

“And lastly… anyone want to supply the final Dark Curse?” Moody asks as he shrinks back the creature and returns it to its home. Traumatized, for sure.

“_Avada Kedavra_,” I answer. Moody’s whole body turns to me.

“American, eh?” Moody asks. I nod. “Well, why don’t you come up here and help me demonstrate some curse and countercurse options.”

I swallow as I stand. My wand is already in my hand. Never have I seen an instructor ask for help in demonstrating the Killing Curse.

“Now, what countercurses can we use for the Killing Curse, class?” Moody asks. No one answers.

“There are none. You have to use a precaution, or physical barrier,” I answer. Moody turns back to me, his magical eye looking me up and down.

“Correct. And, since I don’t want to spend my life in Azkaban, I’ll be using a spider as a target.” Moody choses the untortured spider. He enlarges it and freezes it. It sits next to me, unmoving. I have the urge to touch it, stroke it. Tell it that everything will be okay.

A sound in the far corner of the room distracts me. There, Dumbledore, Severus, and McGonagall stand. A few other Professors that I don’t know the names of are with them. I guess this is a big event. I turn to Moody, forcing their eyes away from my focus.

“Now, American girl—”

“Eris Burke,” I interject.

Moody pauses. “Alright, Burke. Protect that spider with everything you’ve got.”

With that, Moody raises his wand. Mine is already in my hand as I yell my first attempt: “_Expelliarmus!_” But Moody simply blocks the attempt. Okay. That was my attempt at being nice.

“Now, class. We are not in a typical dueling set up. This is because, in real life, there are no dueling halls. There is this, sudden need to protect those who are frozen and helpless. There will be no preparation—”

“_Confringo!” _I exclaim. The explosion, even at a high power, doesn’t even startle Moody. That ‘Constant Vigilance’ must come in handy. Moody still hasn’t made a move against me or the spider. He continues to explain to the class that real life is instant. You can’t afford to be distracted.

Hm. This time, I cast _Levicorpus_. The nonverbal magic does make Moody’s ankle twitch, and he chuckles. “I’m impressed, Burke. Nonverbal magic can be sneaky.”

Finally, Moody points his wand at my spider, crying out, “_Avada Kedavra!”_

Panic and desperation spike into my mind. I’m suddenly in a different memory, a different world completely. I step in front of the curse. Wand up. I cast a few rapid defensive spells, my mind not even keeping up with which ones I use. I just hear my own voice yelling words made of Latin and Greek.

I feel the impact of the Killing Curse, but it doesn’t touch me. Not through the barriers of desks and doors and bookshelves that I’ve created in the seconds it took the curse to come into reality from Moody’s mouth.

Even so, the wooden furniture explodes from the force.

However, I don’t expect Moody’s next move. My heart is racing faster than ever, sweat rolling down my back. The instinctual magic has taken a toll on me. I have nothing left as Moody shouts.

“_Imperio!”_

The spider suddenly comes to life, and I feel its teeth sink into my shoulder. I scream, pain shocking me. I can feel the venom sludging through my body.

“ALASTOR!” someone yells, angry.

My vision turns. I hear Aggie call my name. But I can’t stay here… not with this poison inside of me. I turn on the spider.

“_Avada Kedavra_,” I whisper, and the spider flings away from me. I stumble once. Then, instinct takes over. I do everything I can, but my body begins to transform. It’s my only chance to survive this enlarged dose of what would’ve been harmless venom.

A loud cry, not human, comes from me. I only transform slightly before I can feel the venom recede from my body. When I open my eyes—when did I close them? –I see Severus and Dumbledore above me. Severus has his want touching the wound in my shoulder, muttering some kind of spell to reverse the effects.

Dumbledore watches me. I don’t understand the expression on his face.

Someone holds my hand. I see Aggie, her face horror-stricken. Behind her, the rest of the class leans over my body. McGonagall’s shrill voice comes in the distance, responded to by Moody’s deep and calm one.

“Fuck,” I gasp as pain jolts through me. Aggie’s hand squeezes mine like I should care that the Headmaster is next to me. I look up at Severus, who has pursed his lips. His whole expression is tight with concentration. 

“The venom is being fought on two fronts. One of which is fighting _me_ also,” he explains. I only nod my head. I know what he's telling me to do. I try to pull back my instincts. Some part of me must still be transformed. I imagine my human anatomy. My immune system. Every white blood cell. I picture it like the diagrams I’ve memorized. I exhale once, and suddenly there is no more pain. I open my eyes again. Severus is pocketing his wand.

“The venom is out, but you still have two bleeding holes in your shoulder,” he explains. He gestures to Aggie, who helps grab my other arm. They pull me up and drag me from the classroom.

The last thing I see before I pass out is the giant black spider, frozen in death in the corner of the classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know! But I'll post a pretty long one tomorrow, with a lot of Severus action. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris returns to Moody's classroom after a stay in the infirmary. Curiosity, though, leads her to Snape's as well.

I miss the rest of the week’s classes. By the time Madam Pomfrey has determined that I have no ill effects from the venom and having fangs bite down on my shoulder, I’ve been questioned up and down about the incident. By many, many people.

Dumbledore got to me first.

“You’re an Animagus?” he asks before anything else when I wake up that afternoon.

I blink. “I’m alive and well, yes. Thank you, Professor, for asking. But yes, I am. I’m registered in America. I don’t know how the system works here. If it’s the same thing or different. I’m not unregistered and haven’t broken any rules.”

Dumbledore chuckles. “Miss Burke, I was never concerned about the legality of your status. I was just sitting here, waiting for you to awaken. I was wondering about what exactly you were on your way to transforming into.”

“Well, I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” I deflect.

“If you’re registered, Miss Burke, then there is no surprise.”

I shrug. “True enough. I transform into a bird.”

“Not a small one, though.”

“Oh, of course not. Have you met me? I don’t think I could’ve transformed into anything smaller than a brick if I wanted to.”

The old man chuckles again. “No, I guess not. Anyway, your Animagus abilities are not what I need to know in this moment. Would you like to press charges against Professor Moody?”

I raise my eyebrows. “What? No.”

Dumbledore seems surprised. “No?”

I frown. “I may be a Burke, Professor, but I know what a training exercise is. I heard about that Malfoy kid last year with the hippogriff. I learned something from the duel, and so I’m not going to press charges.”

“And what did you learn, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I take a deep breath. “That there are no rules. You can’t trust anyone to abide by them, even victims and bystanders.”

Dumbledore looks at me for a long time. I meet his light-eyed gaze. “That is true, Miss Burke. There are many adult wizards who don’t know that. I’m glad that you do.”

With that, he stands and says a cheery and lofty farewell.

It’s the next day that Nora finds her way into the infirmary. It must be around lunch time, but I’m asleep when she puts her hand on my mouth. I understand the idea, but my wand is at her throat before my eyes even open.

“Nora!” I hiss at her and release her from my wand’s focus.

“Merlin, Eris! Were you going to kill me?”

“It would be my right to after you snuck up on me like that!”

She scoffs and sits down next to me on the bed. I sigh and scoot over. She stretches as she lays down next to me, like it was her who had been catching up on sleep. Nora takes a deep breath. I think she may be crying.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“You’re asking me! You’re the one almost _murdered_ by Mad-Eye!”

“He didn’t almost murder me, Nora.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard! Beth knows Thyme, whose older sister is Harriet. And Harriet’s ex-boyfriend Tyler was in the room with you!”

I groan. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the friend of Tyler’s ex-girlfriend’s younger sister’s friend isn’t going to have the real story. It was a training exercise.” I stop for a moment. “Tell me that you didn’t write about this to your parents. Or mine.”

Nora’s face answers the question. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You didn’t want to keep this from them, did you?” Nora asks, incredulous. “They may want to press charges!”

“_I _don’t, though,” I hiss back. “And since I’m eighteen, and an adult in both magical and muggle worlds, it is _my_ choice. But now they’ll be worried.”

I take another breath. Nora starts spewing apologies at me, and I respond that it’ll be fine. I’ll just have to write a few letters to them this month.

“Miss Burke! What are you doing, bothering my patient?” Madam Pomfrey asks when she pulls back the curtain around my bed. Nora scurries off, and I give Pomfrey a look of thanks.

Surprisingly, my next visit if from Severus. It happens on Saturday morning, a few hours before Madam Pomfrey has promised to release me back to the real world.

He enters my curtained space silently. I’m awake and reading a muggle fantasy book. He looks me up and down, making me shiver. I hide the sensation, though. Instead, I remember our last interaction when we were alone. My promise not to disobey him.

“How are you?” I ask him.

He grunts. “I’m not recovering from a giant spider bite.”

“You must be doing pretty alright then,” I grin, tilting my head. With my closed book, I gesture to the chair next to my bed.

“I won’t be here long,” he shakes his head. “I had to drop off some potions for Madam Pomfrey.”

“For which I’m thankful, as both her apprentice and her patient.” If I concentrate, I think I can hear one of his one-breath chuckles. At this, I glance at his eyes. They meet mine in an almost audible clash.

“Alastor Moody won’t be held accountable, thanks to you not pressing charges,” Severus informs me. I shrug. “He almost got you killed, Miss Burke,” he continues. There is anger in his voice. Not at me, though. (Though there is frustration.) I shrug again. “And you’re alright with that?”

“Perhaps the method was… unconventional. But like I told the Headmaster, I learned a lot from it. So it wasn’t a waste. I also got out of Alchemy, and truly that’s a saint-like favor. I almost owe Moody just for that, really.”

Severus shakes his head. I tilt mine to look up at him. I’m doing my best to goad him into responding in a casual way to… anything. 

“I’m glad to see you have such a light-hearted perspective,” Severus bites. Sarcasm in its finest form, ladies and gentlemen. The dark-haired man continues, “I must be going.”

Before he leaves, I call out, “Thank you.”

He turns, faces me. “For what, pray tell?”

“Well, for visiting me for one. And for pulling the poison out of me. I know it wasn’t an easy task.”

He gives me one glance over. From my face to the mound my feet make in the sheets then to my shoulder. Where his wand once touched, where there is now pale skin and two small scars where the worst of the carnage had been. But before his eyes could meet mine, he turns and leaves my sight.

* * *

The next week is a disaster. I have to keep up with the new classes as well as catch up on what I missed. By the time the next DADA class rolls around, I’m exhausted. I’ve managed to keep up on Care of Magical Creatures easily enough, but Potions? Alchemy? I sigh as I sit next to Aggie. The room has returned to what it was previously, albeit with newer furniture.

Aggie has been helping me more than I could’ve imagined with keeping up in my classes.

“Hey,” she smiles as I pull out my chair. She looks nervous, like I might freak out or something from being in here.

“Hey,” I respond. “How was the Arithmancy study group last night?”

She tilts her head. “Perfectly and needlessly complicated. Everyone has a different way of doing the problems.”

“Maybe you should have a one-on-one study session with Mandie. You seem to do things in similar ways,” I supply. It’s a small nudge, just an idea, but I hope Aggie takes it. I’ve seen the two bent over Arithmancy homework in the common room—they truly do solve the problems wonderfully together.

Aggie just blushes in time for Moody to enter. He doesn’t acknowledge me as he greets us and calls off roll.

Before I can even whisper to Aggie about the study date she should have with Mandie, Moody is launching into the activity for the day.

“Dumbledore has given me permission to use the Imperius Curse on each of my students,” he says. Suddenly, the room falls silent and focused on this man.

“That's illegal, sir,” a Ravenclaw girl informs us all. As if we didn’t already know. I hold back a comment.

“Yes, Miss Henrik,” Moody replies. “I’m well aware of that. But I have permission from your Headmaster to show you how to combat this Unforgivable Curse. This is the only Curse in which I can teach you actual protection against. Do you not want to know how to break out of a slavery of the mind, Miss Henrik?”

Miss Henrik—I have no idea what her first name is—simply swallows.

“Now. We will go down the order at which you are listed in my roll.”

I watch an Abbott boy endure the Curse, unable to fend it off as Moody makes him walk around the classroom. He dumps out his knapsack in front of us and tells us outrageous and made-up stories about himself.

By the time Moody is finished, he’s frowning at the pureblood. “I didn’t feel a shred of resistance from you, Abbott!”

“Burke, to the front please,” Moody demands. I take a deep breath and stand. When I’m in the place he wants me, he casts the Curse. It hits me in the chest, and I wince. It almost knocks the breath out of me.

But then I feel bliss. No stress from Hogwarts, from classes. No wariness of Wren. No annoyances from lovely Nora. No thoughts of Severus leaking into my mind as they seem to do constantly.

Just… bliss. A form of constant happiness in a distant way.

_Twirl in a circle_, Moody’s voice whispers. The demand echoes through my lack of thoughts. I do so without hesitation. It’s nice to twirl when happy.

_Now, tell the class that you’re an Animagus. _

I open my mouth, but I hesitate.

“I’m…”

_You’re an Animagus. _

“I’m an…”

I shake my head. Why do I need to tell these students that secret? They’ve already seen enough to suspect…

What did they see?

_YOU’RE AN ANIMAGUS._

They didn’t see, did they? They just heard my inhuman cry. I shake my head. Moody’s voice echoes louder. My hands fly up to block my ears. It doesn’t work, because the demands are coming from the inside. I cry out and fall to my knees as Moody’s voice screams inside my head.

_YOU’RE AN ANIMAGUS. YOU’RE AN ANIMAGUS. TELL THEM. TELL THEM. TELL THEM TELL THEM TELL THEM WHAT YOU ARE._

One last shake of my head, and everything fades. When I blink, this time I get feedback. My own sight returns to me. The students stare at me. Aggie’s jaw has dropped. I’m kneeling on the stone floor of the classroom. I blink. Look up at Moody, who is grinning down at me.

“An excellent job, Miss Burke!” he exclaims. There is genuine pride in his voice. “I was using very strong magic. Next round, we can practice until you are able to resist easily.”

He gestures at me to take my seat. A Mr. Castor is up next, and I slump in my chair as he takes his place. There are a few valiant efforts of resistance, but no one can do so outright. Not like… not like I did. I watch Aggie cluck like a chicken and laugh a little.

By the time we get through one round, it’s time for lunch. That’s it for DADA for the week, thankfully. Enough time for a nap or twelve.

I send a message to Madam Pomfrey, telling her that my magic has drained me. That I can’t correctly perform healing spells. She responds quickly, telling me to get some rest before I return to the infirmary as a patient instead of an apprentice.

I smile as I head to the dungeons after lunch. A nap sounds so, so good right now.

I’m passing by the Potions classroom when I hesitate. I need to brew a few potions by the end of the week. Its only Thursday, but… If I can get ahead on my work and be caught up by Monday, I can heave a peaceful week.

I knock on the door. No answer. I’m tempted to go to my room and my original plan of a nap.

Instead, I push open the door. I feel the resistance of the heavy metal. Huffing, I cast a silencing charm on it. If Severus isn’t in the classroom, I can brew quickly and have the results for him later. But if the door alerts everyone in the dungeons that I’m here…

When I enter the classroom, I’m surprised to see it well-lit. There, at the desk he uses to demonstrate technique to us, Severus stirs over a potion. His dark locks are pulled back, and he wears only a black dress shirt. Of course, pants too, but I’m entranced by his arms for a moment as I watch. Even with his sleeves, I can tell that they're toned from all of the physical demands of brewing large batches of potions. He takes a break from stirring to prepare a few ingredients. His long fingers deftly slice the root into thin sections.

I don’t speak until he stirs the new ingredient in and takes a step back.

“May I interrupt?”

He startles, his whole body tensing and head jerking to see me. “What are you doing here, Miss Burke?”

“I was just going to work on the potions I missed, but if you’re busy, I can do it this afternoon.”

He frowns. His nose wrinkles as he looks me up and down, but my heart skips anyway. “No. I have a class, and it will just take more of my time. If you can be silent, you can brew at your station.”

I nod once and go to my desk. I set my bag down and retrieve all of my tools and ingredients. I begin my potion quietly, eager to get this done so I can go sleep. My magic has drained so much of me already, but this potion simple on that aspect. It requires a lot of physical work, but little true magical skill.

Hey, at least this way I can be exhausted in all aspects before I go to dinner.

But as the minutes pass, I get distracted. In my peripheral vision, I can see Severus in concentration. His almost-casual button-down shirt. When my potion is set to simmer for a few minutes, I find myself walking over to him.

“What are you brewing?” I ask.

“Something that requires concentration. And silence.”

I smile. “I think that’s a rule for every potion, yet we manage to go without silence as an ingredient in class.”

Severus’s black, intriguing eyes flick to mine. I tilt my head, glance at his potion then back to him. Wait for an answer to my first question.

“I’m seeking to alter the method of brewing wolfsbane,” Severus finally sighs.

“To make it easier to create? Or to make it better at what it does?”

“Both,” Severus grunts.

I nod and watch him for another few seconds before returning to my cauldron. The liquid inside is a pretty red color. I add my own slices of root to the concoction. Mine aren’t as perfectly thin and identical as Severus’s, but they’re pretty damn good.

The smell of forest fills the room. I inhale deeply. Sighing, I suddenly feel the need to sit. My chair is far away, since I stand to brew. Instead, I lean against Severus’s desk. His actual desk, not the one he is using now.

Forest and sky. That’s what the potion smells like. I close my eyes. Fade away for a moment, dreaming of skies and wings and wind. Wind. Wind, underneath and above me. Caressing me. My cheek.

My cheek. A voice.

“Eris? Eris! Can you hear me?”

“Why are you yelling?” I murmur. The world slowly comes back to me. I open my eyes to see Severus’s face in front of mine, his body pushing mine against the desk. There’s concern in his dark eyes. I smile when I see them. “Hello, Severus.”

“Are you a true idiot, Miss Burke?” Severus barks. I blink.

“What?” My voice is weak, and I hate it.

“You brewed with depleted magic? And worse, a hallucinogenic potion? Did you just happen to forget what happens at this stage of the process?”

“If you don’t do it right, it explodes,” I answer automatically. My eyes widen as I glance over Severus’s shoulder. There, my cauldron sits perfectly fine. Someone took it off of the heat, though, ruining the potion. “What the hell? Now I have to do the whole thing over.”

“Not tonight, you won’t,” Severus warns. He’s still pushing against me, as if to physically stop me from brewing.

“I have to get this done,” I bite back at him. Merlin, I must be tired if I’m willing to actually give in to his negativity. “I’m busy. I can’t spare spending tomorrow in here with a bunch of kids. It’ll take twice as long to brew the potion.”

Severus snarls and pushes his face even closer to mine. “Are you awake enough to understand that you could have gotten yourself killed? If I hadn’t been here, _Miss Burke_,” he bites my name out, “you would have died.”

I frown. I blink a few times, shake my head. The memories of flying finally leave my thoughts. My eyes widen as I look at Severus’s angry expression.

“Oh God,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Severus shakes his head at me. But then, it seems that he notices that he has one of his students pressed against his desk. That his hand is still gripping my cheek. As if I’ve shocked him, he flinches back a few feet. For some reason, it stings.

“Do better in the future. Now, go, Miss Burke. You can come in tomorrow during my class to brew.”

With that, I swallow once. I move to clean up my cauldron, but Severus scoffs at me to leave it. So, I grab my knapsack and walk out of the classroom. When the door closes behind me, I turn a few times down random hallways until I’m in a lonely and dank part of the dungeons.

I slide down the rough wall to sit on the floor. Bury my head between my knees. Tears come. From what? I don’t know exactly. From remembering what it was to fly, so long ago. That freedom. The feeling of foolishness when a fucking _potion_ managed to manipulate me. The now repeating feeling of Severus against me, his hand on my cheek, and my name in his mouth.

Anger, pure and sharp, bursts through me and a single noise comes from within me.

It isn’t human—and I’m not sure I want it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a time jump next chapter. I think we're about ready to get into the action of the Tournament, don't you? As the tension rises in Hogwarts, so will the tension between Severus and Eris. Let's see how this goes!  
(As always, thanks for reading!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris and Severus clash, resulting in a curious trip to the Forbidden Forest.

The next few weeks pass easily. Classes and friends—a cycle. Excitement builds day-by-day as the Triwizard Tournament comes closer. A week before the excitement comes to a peak, a note appears on the marble staircase. A week until the schools arrive. Seven days. They go by slowly. 

My thoughts have constantly circled back to Severus in these weeks. He’s been an apt Professor. As a Slytherin student, I’m spared most of his criticism. But I don’t get much praise, either. Even though I’m one of the best Potions students in the damn school, the man hasn’t seemed to be able to compliment my skills. These are the thoughts that annoy me while real life continues to slide by.

“Oh, gosh, what are you going to wear to greet them?” Nora begs me as I sit with her in the common room. The delegation should arrive later today. Nora, somehow, has a free afternoon as well. I suspect that she’s skipping a class to sit here with me.

I shrug at her question. “Are we not expected to show up in our uniform?”

Nora rolls her eyes at me. “Of course, but there are always ways to spice it up! Like a scarf. Or tights that are a little more transparent. Or pulling your skirt up a little—”

“I’m just there to see the other schools, Nora, not find a husband.”

The girl slouches in her seat. “Well, that’s good for you. _Some_ of us have to face Grandmother all summer, you know!”

I wince. I forget how lucky I am to live with my parents, away from all of that pureblood nonsense. The pressure to marry and have children in ways to keep the bloodline pure. If my mother was the eldest daughter instead of my aunt, she would never have been allowed to marry my father. Either way, my uncle was the main focus of my grandmother anyway.

“Uncle Emerson’s not even married,” I remind Nora. “I’m sure Grandmother is tired after playing matchmaker for twenty years.”

My mother’s eldest brother, Emerson, never married. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have children—they’re just by “lesser” witches. Somehow, none of the suspected mothers ever fess up to carrying his illegitimate children. Therefore, my mother has never had a chance to stand up for them. Unfortunately, that _does_ put pressure on Nora and I to carry on the family name. More on Nora, since my father is a “lesser” wizard.

I do what I can to lighten her burden while we’re here, but I see our grandmother’s constant remarks and harsh words to Nora.

“I don’t think she’ll ever get tired of messing in other people’s business,” Nora mutters. Uncharacteristic somberness falls on her face.

I reach out and take her hand. “Listen—I’ll hex Grandmother before I let her go too far. I promise.” She smiles at the idea. Then I continue, “Besides, what’s the interest in the foreign boys? I thought our beloved pureblood families are British.”

“Indeed,” a new voice interjects. I look up at Ben. His handsome face is smiling as he plops down on the couch next to me. “But Bulgaria and others have their own pureblood lines. A cross-continent match isn’t looked down upon. Of course, homeland pureblood couples are preferred.”

With those words, Ben’s eyes catch mine. Nora talks about something, but I tense as Ben stretches his arm around my shoulders. Of course, he doesn’t actually touch me. Just the back of the couch. But the closeness… the _intimacy_… It’s still there.

Ben has been shifting from playful, nonsense flirting to true courting behaviors lately. As Ben, he still flirts and laughs with anything that moves. His focus on me, though, has been slowly developing. I take a breath as I settle back, allowing the back of my head to rest on his forearm.

He’s a beautiful young man. A jawline that could cut glass. The dark hair of the Flint family. But his eyes… I don’t know where he got his bright grey eyes. As a Quidditch player, his body is lean. He’s the one who organized Slytherin’s intra-House football games last year. The scorecards are still pinned to the walls of the common room.

I won’t lie and say that I’m not interested in him. His Flint last name means nothing to me—but he’s sweet. Funny. Smart in his own quick-witted way.

“Miss Burke, Mr. Flint, this is a common room,” an all-too-familiar snapping voice echoes in the empty room. In half a second, Ben’s arm is gone from my back. “_Not_ an evening in Hogsmeade,” Severus finishes.

It’s the first time he’s talked to me outside of class. Not that this counts much. Ben’s backed off from touching me, but I see the hardness in his gaze.

Sensing the impending argument and Ben’s detention, I jump in: “Are you here to tell us that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are going to be here soon, Professor?”

His eyes flash to me for just a moment. Then, he barks at Nora. “You, Miss Burke, should be in class with Professor Flitwick.”

Nora shrinks visibly into her chair. “I’m sorry, Professor—”

“Detention. Cleaning cauldrons.”

My cousin’s change in demeanor awakens something within me. Of course, she deserves detention for getting caught cutting class. But the words leave my mouth anyway.

“Professor Snape, shouldn’t Flitwick get to punish her?” I suggest because Flitwick’s detentions are much, much easier than scraping cauldrons and disemboweling small creatures.

Severus’s gaze snaps to me. For a moment, I can’t breathe. Not from tension or excitement—from fear. I’ve never been the subject of such a glare from him. _This_ is why all of the young kids are scared shitless of this guy, I realize. I didn’t even know I’ve been saved from this.

“You will also spend the weekend cleaning cauldrons, Miss Burke.” He gives me a look, daring me to respond.

I wasn’t Sorted into Gryffindor. Instead of speaking up, though, I force my anger and fire into my eyes when I look up at him. My jaw clenches, my face forms into something serious and frustrated. Severus doesn’t even flinch. My _looks_ are known to make young, stupid teenagers piss themselves (it really did happen once). But with Severus… we clash in an impasse. Except he wins, because my mouth stays shut.

After a few seconds, Severus’s lips turn into a horrible version of a smile. A satisfied, cruel thing. In that moment, I hate him. Right now, I see that look, and I want to use my wand.

Which has made its way to my hand. I don’t even notice Ben’s hand on my wrist that holds the wood. I keep my wand in my sleeve. I’m in the habit of fidgeting, but this is way too close to actually drawing my wand on a Professor.

In a show of will stronger than I thought I possess, I force my face to relax. A pleasant, friendly expression. Blank. The lightning withdraws from my eyes. I push down my anger to just below my surface. My grip on my wand lessens and I slip it back up my sleeve. Ben’s hand relaxes but stays on my wrist.

“Of course, Professor Snape,” I reply to him. “My apologies.”

Severus’s onyx eyes flicker to my hand for just a moment. It’s just enough to tell me that he knows how close I was to losing control. To lashing out.

The man must say some kind of farewell, but I can’t hear it over the rushing in my ears. The professor leaves. Nora and Ben are still and quiet for a moment—uncharacteristic for their characters. Slowly, Ben releases my wrist.

My skin feels so, so hot. Everything is hot. I take a shaky breath and disrobe. My black coat falls to the floor. I’m standing in the middle of the room. How that happened, I don’t know. I’m nothing but emotion. Frustration. Fear. Anger. Everything is so pent up…

“Eris?” Nora asks, voice tentative.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ben asks, less subtle.

I laugh. It’s the laugh of a madwoman. Cold. A sound that Severus likely makes in the night, walking these dungeons.

“You almost _attacked_ Snape,” Ben continues, trying to force calmness into the words. To calm me down? Himself? I don’t know.

“I did not…” I begin but trail off. I shake my head. “I have to go.”

Nora stands suddenly. The movement startles me, and I whip my head to face her. “Eris, the other schools are coming!”

“I just need a minute, Nora,” I reply. I force myself not to snap at her. Not at Nora. “Don’t wait up.”

With that, I leave the common room.

***

The grounds of Hogwarts are beautiful, but I cast an Invisibility charm on myself to run through them. I don’t have time to take in the new flowers and horticulture additions to campus. I have to get _away_. I make it to the Forbidden Forest in what must be record time.

Almost immediately, the sun dims. The trees become dense. I sense the presence of other creatures, but I don’t pay them mind. I just need to walk. Get out this energy. Force it out, if I have to. My wand is drawn, just in case. My emotions don’t blind me into stupidity.

A forest doesn’t earn the “Forbidden” moniker for being safe, after all. As if to confirm my judgement, a distant roar echoes in the distance. Wonderful.

“What are you looking for, little witch?” a voice startles me. I spin around, wand at the ready. There, only a few yards from me, a centaur. He has light brown hair on both his horse and human halves. His human face is covered with a small beard.

The most drawing detail is his bow, pulled taught with an arrow pointing at me.

“Hello,” I manage to respond. “I’m not looking for anything. Going for a walk.”

“In the forest? All alone? Isn’t that telling, Firenze? You would know, with your penchant for serving such deplorable creatures.”

At that moment, a beautiful centaur enters the small clearing. His long hair is almost white, with a pale coat. His piercing blue eyes look down at me. He doesn’t point his bow at me, but it is still slung against his shoulder.

He looks me up and down before making a sound of affirmation. “Animagus, do you seek privacy to transform?”

I swallow. Looking up at Firenze, I realize how true his question is. Damn centaurs and their clairvoyance. I look up at him.

“Perhaps. Why?”

Firenze tilts his head to look at me. His eyes manage to force themselves deep into mine. I take a step back, to my own frustration.

“Do not transform yet, Eris. Keep your bird within you.”

I frown. He knows my name. “Why?” _Curiosity kills the cat_, I can almost hear my mother’s voice remind me.

The beautiful beast looks down at me. “You will turn within the month. In an event true to your namesake. If you refrain from transforming, you will emerge a victor.”

Promises from Divination have never settled well for me. I frown. My name... Eris is a Greek goddess of chaos. What kind of chaos will _I _ be involved in? I've done everything I can to keep a low profile here. 

“What kind of victor?” I wince. “What kind of event? Another duel?”

Firenze shakes his head once. The other centaur, with his arrow still aimed to my chest, gives him a look full of hatred. I blink at the expression. Merlin, what happened between these two? Without another word from either, the two run into the dense woods.

I stare at where they once stood.

Even if I’ve calmed down enough (mostly from being held at arrow-point) not to release my emotions and become a nonhuman creature, I don’t want to return to the castle. Now that I have a quiet moment, I try to figure out what the hell possessed me to come out here.

Anger at Severus. For what? Giving me detention for questioning his judgement? _Are you a true idiot, Miss Burke?_

Stress from Hogwarts. Classes, a new place. Having to avoid Wren while forging friendships.

Homesickness. God, I miss Ilvermorny. I miss the friends I spent my youth with.

And… Severus. Back to Severus. Always. I know there’s something between us. Perhaps not now, but once. I’ve never been given a look like that before from him. We would… I thought we were comfortable talking. Nothing deep, but just… speaking. I could relax.

But now? Now, I’m nothing more than a rebellious student.

“Aye! Eris, what a’ ya’ doin’ out here?”

Hagrid. I take a deep breath and push myself up to my feet. I turn to see the giant man hobbling toward me.

“Hey, Hagrid. Sorry, I was taking a walk.”

“But the schools a’ arrivin’!”

I take a deep breath. Hagrid folds his arms as he looks down at me. I shrug. If I don’t want to get in trouble, I’m really going to have to sell this.

“I’m _from_ a different school, Hagrid. I’m sorry I’m in an off-limits area. I just thought I heard something that needed help. I couldn’t find it though. It had a weird noise—almost like those skrewts that those fourth years are raising? But then I couldn’t find anything, and this seemed like a good place to rest.”

“You ‘eard the skrewts?” Hagrid steps forward. Of course, that would grab his attention. I have to hide my smile at my success.

“I thought I did. I could be wrong, but it was a strangely familiar noise…”

“I’ll lead you out ‘ta the Forest. You have ‘ta promise not to return, though.”

I smile at the man. “I don’t want a detention. I won’t be back here any time soon. I’m glad you found me.”

For a moment, Hagrid looks at me. “It’s hard to believe yer a Slytherin.”

With that, Hagrid leads me out of the Forest. He returns immediately to investigate the ‘noise’ of the skrewts. I take a deep breath and start walking back to the caste.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like the Slytherin is really coming out in our girl, eh? Or perhaps it was always there.
> 
> Next chapter, we meet the other schools and Eris comes to a realization. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feast before Halloween with Durmstrang and Baeuxbatons ensues. Eris continues to pester Severus.

Nora is on the brim of panic when I enter the Great Hall. Chatter and an air of excitement echoed through Hogwarts before I even got to the feast, so no one notices when I slink into the room. I take my normal place next to Nora, across from Aggie, and diagonal from Ben.

Before I say anything, I take in the room. The Durmstrang students sit at our table, the head of it. The beautiful Beauxbatons students sit at Ravenclaw. The French wizards look out of place here. For once, I’m glad for my thick uniform. Their silk ones look like they would be miserable outside.

The Malfoy kid is the first to speak to one of the Durmstrang boys. I watch the white-haired boy, frowning. I've heard his ramblings about Harry Potter and his all-powerful father. 

“Where were you?” Nora hisses at me, but she’s staring at the thick, muscular-looking boy.

“Went for a walk. Talked to Hagrid. Who is that?”

“Viktor Krum,” Nora squeals, thankfully not loud enough for Krum himself to hear. I frown at the name. It’s familiar.

“Isn’t he—”

“Yes!” Nora exclaims. The Durmstrang students' chairs are covered in the furs that I assume they entered in. Their uniforms are a deep crimson. It gives them the appearance of wearing blood-soaked clothes. Krum and his peers eye the gold and dishes.

“I think your Quidditch star’s pack is going to steal our silverware,” I mutter no one.

“Where the bloody hell were you, Eris?” Ben finally whispers to me. He has to lean across the table to do it, though, and Aggie can easily hear him.

“Yeah, Eris, I saved you a spot to welcome the new schools, but you never came,” she observes. She gives me a once-over. “Are you alright?”

Ben snorts. “We had a run-in with Snape. Gave Nora and Eris detention.”

“So I went off to pout,” I finish for him. Ben turns to me in shock. For once, he’s speechless. “You didn’t say it, Flint, but it’s what you were thinking," I say in a matter-of-fact-but-my-annoyance-is-obvious way. 

Ben’s face pinkens, then he shakes his head and returns to his plate. I take the moment to look at Aggie, who is frowning at him.

“Anyway, Aggie, thank you for saving me a place. I’m excited to see how these new students measure up.”

Aggie smirks. “To Ilvermorny or Hogwarts?”

I tilt my head. “Both. I think that, after this, I may be the most knowledgeable student of Schools of Magic in our year.”

“I bet Hermione Granger could top you,” Nora says.

“Who?”

“The Gryffindor know-it-all,” Nora scoffs. “One of Harry Potter’s friends.”

I frown. “Oh. Maybe I’ll compare notes with her. Slip her some Ilvermorny secrets.”

“You’d make the know-it-all worse?” Nora asks.

I shrug. “Is she a know-it-all that actually can back it up? Or is she the type that talks out of her ass?”

Nora squirms. “She’s pretty smart—”

“She’s a Mudblood,” someone hisses. I turn to see Wren’s ugly sneer. How a beautiful woman can turn into something hag-like so quickly astonishes me.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“Hermione Granger,” Wren speaks slowly, like I’m an idiot, “is a _Mudblood_.”

I lean forward, balancing my chin on my palm. “What’s that?”

“A muggle-born,” Nora says, confusion in her voice. She knows I’ve heard our grandmother rant about ‘Mudbloods’ for our whole lives. Followed by my mother pulling me aside and setting me straight.

“A muggle-born?” I repeat, louder. So Wren can hear what Nora informed me of. I turn to the raven-haired vixen. “So why use Mudblood instead of muggle-born? When they’re the same thing?” I use a tone of feigned misunderstanding. I’m staring right into Wren’s eyes. _Say it_, I want to hiss. If she’s going to be crude and derogatory, she may as well own up to it.

I’m not going to lecture her on the wrongfulness of immortal pureblood ideals. I know that nothing will change. But I want her to admit, aloud, that she’s bigoted.

Wren’s smile turns feral. Toward me, now.

“Because Mudblood implies their subordinate status in society.”

I tilt my head, eyes alight. “Do you know anything of the American civil rights movement? I know it may be too far from your knowledge, being both an ocean and magic-boundary away.”

Wren sneers. “Of course I know of it.”

I shrug. Again, nothing in my demeanor is aggressive. “Your explanation of ‘Mudblood’ just seems familiar of some folks in that time, too.” With that, I turn my back to Wren. Dangerous, if we weren’t in a room with heightened standards. With the other schools here, punishment for making a scene will be swift and harsh.

So, I turn to Nora and start a conversation about what it was like to see the other schools come from the sky and lake.

I missed Dumbledore’s speech, but the main excitement among us seventh years is that the tournament will open afterwards.

My focus, however, is on the food. The feast is made of delicacies that our visitors would be used to. I eat greedily, hungry like I haven’t been in weeks. Hagrid comes into the room at some point with a bandage on his hand. I frown when I see it. It hadn’t been there when I saw him earlier.

With my eyes on the table, I almost don’t notice the entrance of two men. They sit in the empty chairs at the table. Nora explains them to me as Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, apparently both influential Ministry officials.

I frown at the two. Something seems… off. Especially about the older, less handsome Crouch. Inside me, I feel wariness. I can’t put a finger on it, but I suddenly want to leave the room. Something about the feeling reminds me of Moody’s magical eye scraping against my skin as it observed me in class.

After dessert has been eaten and plates cleared, Dumbledore stands.

“The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—” The physical excitement and anxiousness in the room stutters when Dumbledore says the last word. He continues, though, “—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Dumbledore goes on to explain their status of judges, along with himself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxine. (I’m assuming that Karkaroff is the Durmstrang-esque man and Madam Maxine is the Beauxbatons giantess—not the other way around.)

At the Headmaster’s command, Filch brings out a wooden chest. It’s ornate and old, decorated with jewels.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this, a thrill runs through me. Perhaps it is the Thunderbird within me… but danger? Adventure? If I thought myself eligible, I would enter into this competition. Reason fights with the want of challenge, and I know that I am not a good representative of Hogwarts. Besides, I need to focus on my classes and NEWTs. 

Dumbledore continues through the silence that has descended the Hall, “As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

The old man taps the casket three times with his wand, causing the lid to open. It goes at a slow pace, my hands gripping the table in anxiousness. I don’t know why—it seems I’m just as entranced as the others to get started with the Tournament.

Dumbledore pulls out a large cup. It’s wooden… and also brimming with blueish flames. When the casket is closed, Dumbledore places it on top of the box.

“Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.”

Dumbledore explains the Age Line, and for those that enter not to do so lightly. Once a name is selected by the Goblet, the champion _has_ to compete. With that, the Headmaster sends us off to bed.

Nora, Aggie, Ben, and I try to get out of the Hall and to the common room, but an awkward situation between Harry Potter, Moody, and Karkaroff stops us. I’m close enough to watch it.

Durmstrang stares at Harry, Moody tells them to fuck off (but more nicely, to my surprise), and Karkaroff does, indeed, fuck off. I watch Harry’s face through the whole thing. The blush in his cheeks, the way his eyes did not truly follow the confrontation between Karkaroff and Moody but stayed mostly on various spots on the floor.

I have an urge similar to the one I had when Moody proposed attacking that spider. I want to reach out to the young teenager, pull him away from the eyes of the giant crowd. I shake the feeling away when the image of the dead spider fills my thoughts.

When the Durmstrang coalition leaves the doorway, we all leave much faster. We get to the dungeons with a crowd of Slytherins. The crowd makes it easy to slip away from my friends. That’s another one of my Slytherin talents, one that I’ve always had: an ability to slip into a crowd and hide. It’s come in handy a lot.

Especially at Quidditch Cups. Until a guy slams into you and ruins your cover. 

For some reason, my feet take me to him. Well, to his class. The door is unlocked, but heavy. I cast another silencing charm on it. Inside, Severus sits at his desk, grading papers. Since his focus isn’t on a potion, he sees me instantly. No shock or surprise mars his harsh features. I shut the door behind me.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to bed, Miss Burke?” Severus asks, looking back down at the essays he grades with a sharp quill.

I frown and walk up to his desk.

“I know what you saw,” I say simply. “And you didn’t say anything about…” About me almost drawing my wand on him. Losing control.

Severus looks up at me. “Do you wish I had?”

I shake my head. “No—”

“Then why are you _here_, wasting my time?”

“Because!” I bite. I cut myself off instantly. There’s no need to give Severus what he wants. I won’t be a rebellious, combative student for him to battle gleefully. I swallow and continue calmly, “because I want to know why.”

Severus raises an eyebrow. “Why didn't report and punish you for being prepared to misuse magic, to harm a staff member?”

I swallow. I can’t refute him because he’s right. Mostly. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have harmed you.”

“No? Then what was your plan, Miss Burke?”

“I didn’t have one,” I admit. “I didn’t even know I had my wand out. Didn’t even feel…”

“Feel Benjamin Flint’s hand holding you back?”

Merlin, an actual blush spreads on my cheeks. “Yea,” I wince. “I was too distracted.”

“By what?”

“By you.” The truth shocks me, and also the man in front of me. His eyes widen, eyebrows draw close. But it only holds for a moment before his face is wiped clean. “By my emotions,” I try to clarify, but wince. That just sounds worse. “My anger and frustration,” I keep going.

Severus holds out a hand. I stop talking.

“You were given a detention, and you were angry. So you drew your wand, Miss Burke. I decided not to punish you. So, again, _why are you here?_ Why test my mercy?”

I don’t have an answer for him. After a few moments, Severus grunts and returns to his papers. It’s a dismissal.

“Alright,” I murmur. I take a deep breath. “So, who do you think the Hogwarts champion will be?”

Severus glares at me.

I smile. It’s a feeble and tentative thing. I should leave after his words, but… I don’t want to. So, I continue. “There are bets going around about how Fred and George Weasley will try to enter. I haven’t seen the Age Line—if it is an actual line or not—but the theories are interesting.”

“They will fail,” Severus says simply.

I shrug. “Most likely. From how Dumbledore was talking, it sounds like that would be the best fate for them. To fail at entering.” By now, I’ve leaned back on the student desk across from Severus’s. My arms are crossed as I think.

I think aloud, “I think that Cedric guy from Hufflepuff will enter. He’s a good one—in my Care of Magical Creatures class. I can see a few from Slytherin coming close to enter. I don’t know if any actually will.”

Severus snorts. “Every seventh-year and sixth-year of age will have a slip of paper with their name and ‘Hogwarts’ written in their pocket tomorrow.”

I stop. Was that… a joke? I chuckle, not showing any kind of hesitation. No acknowledgement of how his response has stopped and restarted my heart.

“I can see that. Not me, though.”

Severus looks up. “No?”

Again, I’m shocked about his inquiry. An inquiry about myself. Again, I want everyone to contact their nearest pig farm. Get those farmers ready, because all of their hogs are about to sprout wings.

“No,” I shrug. “I’m not truly from Hogwarts, am I?”

Severus grunts. That’s all I get from him, I guess. But I’m floating in the sky, it feels, when I smile at Severus.

“I’ll leave you to your papers,” I step away from the desk I leaned on. He nods in acknowledgement that I spoke. Shrugging, I make my way back to the door of his classroom. For a moment, I want to turn around.

Merlin, I really, really want to turn around. And that’s when it hits me. I truly, sincerely, like Severus Snape. Beyond the physical attraction—I just _like_ him. I like his grunts and his coldness. Because I know that there is something beneath it, that I can feel. That I want to know more than I want anything.

For a second, I picture what would happen if I spun around and confessed all of this to my Potions Professor. Instead, I glance over my shoulder. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.”

And, whole body burning, I leave the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore's full quotes are from The Goblet of Fire novel by J.K. Rowling. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris and Nora serve their detentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some slight explicit content at the beginning of this chapter

I sigh. A good sigh. A release of air from content lungs.

Severus and I sit in the common room. He sips from a cup that I know is tea. In his other hand, he holds open a book balanced on his knee. His hair is unbound, framing his face. He wears a black button-down shirt, black pants, and his boots. With a relaxed demeanor, his dark, enchanting eyes scan the pages of his novel.

He looks up when he hears my sigh. An eyebrow raises in question. I smile.

“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out. A blush spreads across my cheeks. “Just, your stature. Your book and your tea. It’s all…” I swallow. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

I’m never this nervous around people I like. With Ben, I’m cool and friendly. With past crushes, I’m smooth. It’s the first time I’ve actually been… worried. About how he sees me. That he might not like me back. Not the way I like him. 

Severus chuckles at either my words or my struggling. I don’t know which he is amused by. Both, maybe. Hopefully? I don’t know.

“Finish your work, Eris,” he advises, a nice tone to his voice. A borderline friendly one. A teasing one.

I shake my head at him, but I do look back down at my essay. It’s for his Potions class. I’m writing about that wolfsbane potion he’s working on—how altering its preparations could potentially change it. I’m working through chemical equations when my mind wanders again.

My eyes do too, and I glance up at Severus. To my surprise, he’s watching me. He doesn’t look away or flinch when I catch him. A couple of thumping heartbeats pass.

“Come here,” he says. It’s a simple demand. Shaking, I put my papers to the side. Severus gently closes his book and sets it beside him. A wave of wandless magic, and his tea has disappeared.

I stand and walk over to where he sits on the couch. He raises his eyebrows, and in one motion, grabs my hands and pulls me down onto his lap. A surprised sound escapes me. The least attractive sound a human can make, I think. A weird yelp.

Severus doesn’t mention it. Our faces are only inches away. His dark eyes stare deep, down into mine. My lips part as I take in a choppy breath.

“Eris,” he murmurs, eyes flickering once to my lips. “What do you want?” he purrs. _Purrs_. A shiver makes its way down my spine. Then to a different part of my body.

“What do you mean?” I whisper, playing dumb. Severus smirks. Doesn’t clarify. Just waits for an answer to the question he knows damn well I understood.

Finally, one word escapes me: “You.”

With that, with the level of certainty in my tone, Severus nods once. And then he pulls me close. Close, close, close. Chest to chest, and, best of all, lips to lips. We’ve done this before. Because of this, my focus goes to the other sensations I have.

Like the hardness against my inner thigh.

In a few moments, Severus has rearranged us. I lay underneath him on the couch. With the wave of his hand, our clothes remove themselves and are neatly folded and arranged elsewhere in the room.

I touch him. His face, neck, chest, hair. I hold his jaw as I kiss him. I caress his side as his hands find their way to my breasts. I’m breathing heavy by the time he pulls away from the kiss He smirks at me once before one hand begins a journey.

My cheek, where I close my eyes and lean into his hand. His long and graceful fingers. My neck, where I hold my breath. My breast, where I gasp as he gives a light pinch to my nipple. My stomach, where I swear he can feel heat and excitement.

And then, finally, to where I want him. I exhale quickly as one of his perfect fingers just teases me. Just a tease. A light caress all the way down my slit. It makes me even wetter.

“Severus,” I moan.

“_Severus _what?”

I take a shaky breath as he continues the barely-there touching. My body squirms, but he’s careful not to let me force his touch to have more pressure.

Swallowing, I whisper, “Please.”

“What was that, Eris?”

“Please,” I say louder.

“Please for what?”

“Please, Severus,” I beg. “Please touch me. I _need_ you to touch me. I need you.”

His expression is pleased. I gasp in excitement as he begins to apply pressure right above my clit—

“ERIS!”

I blink. Severus frown down at me.

“ERIS, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR DETENTION!”

My eyes open. I’m in my bed. Alone. The fire in the corner of the room is dead and cold. My sheets are a mess, and I sigh. It's not a good sigh. Nora is still yelling at the other side of the door.

Quickly, I get out of bed and throw on a robe. I swing open the door with enough speed and power that Nora jumps back.

“What?” I snap.

“We have detention,” Nora reminds me. “We have to be in Snape’s classroom in, like, two minutes.”

It’s a good thing we live close by. I get dressed in a record amount of time. Since it’s a weekend, I just throw on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It’s black and a nice, comfortable material. It clings to my curves, usually hidden by my bulky school uniform.

Nora wears her school skirt, but her own blouse. I blush as we pass the couch in the common room, but I don’t have any more time to dwell on my dream. My sex dream. It’s been weeks since I’ve dreamed about anything but the sky, wind, and forest. Sand and sun also sneak in, but mostly wind. Rain and clouds and lightning make frequent appearances. And now, one Severus cameo. 

We arrive exactly on time. It’s after breakfast, which I slept through. My stomach is begging for food by the time Nora is knocking on the door.

“Enter,” Severus says from the other side. Nora takes a deep breath and pushes open the loud door.

The subject of my dream wears his typical robes. An unfortunate fact. He gets up from his place at his desk. I think I spy a stack of papers and an extra vial of red ink. My mind flashes back to the chemical formulas I was working on in my dream.

Frowning, I try to remember them. They weren’t nonsense, even in the dream. I make note to work them out later today. See if my dream-self came up with anything helpful.

“Miss Burke,” he looks at Nora. “You will scrub those cauldrons until every bit of residue is gone. Inside and out.” In the corner of the classroom, there is a fountain and a few stacks of rags and cleaning tools. Scrapers and sponges and the like.

Then, Severus turns to me. “You will be helping me with more sophisticated ingredients.” Nora silently slouches over to the cauldrons. When the water turns on, Severus continues. “I have a freshly delivered barrel of three-toed frogs over here. They are already dead. Scrape the oils off of their skin and put it into this jar.” He walks over to the station. “Then remove their legs cleanly. Set half out to dry and put the other half into _this_ jar.”

I give him a wry smile. “At No-Maj schools, I think they just clean blackboards for detention. Here, I’m cutting up dead animals.”

Severus gives me a look. It’s not pleased. When his eyes meet mine, I look away. Turning my head, I try to hide my blush. I yank my hair tie from my wrist and distract myself by pulling up my hair. I might not be actually brewing potions, but it’s nice to have the long waves out of my way.

In the corner, Nora’s curls are already damp with water, soap, and sweat.

I step forward and open the giant barrel. There, what must be a thousand frogs lay limply on top of one another.

Severus doesn’t say anything else as he returns to his desk. I sigh. It’s the type of sigh that happens before a big task. The ‘this is going to take forever’ sigh. The ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ sigh.

I pick up the first frog. The tool I use has a wooden handle, but the tip is sharp stone. I’m sure that some kind of metal tool would be better, but this is for a potion. I’m assuming that the tool has significance in the potion’s use, not just Severus wanting to make things difficult for me.

After a few minutes, I get into a rhythm. Honestly, as a bird, I’ve eaten creatures larger than this. It’s gross now, as a fully cognitive person, but… Birds don’t cook their meals. Raw is the only way I’ve eaten any animal while I was transformed.

“Miss Burke.”

I blink. When I look up, Severus has an annoyed expression on his face. I frown.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes,” he folds his arms.

“Oh,” I shrug. “I was focused.”

“Yes,” Severus tilts his head. “It seems that the hours have passed without you noticing.”

“Hours?” my eyes widen. I look around the room. In the corner, stacks of clean cauldrons rest alone. Nora is nowhere in sight. “Where is Nora?”

Severus grunts. “She finished her task before lunch.”

“Lunch?” I look at the clock on the wall. There is only two hours until the feast! “Woah. I didn’t even notice being hungry.”

I take a step away from the remaining frogs. To my surprise, there are only five left. Shaking my head, I pass Severus to go to the washing station. I spend a few minutes with my hands under the water. I wash thoroughly.

Severus clears his throat. “Have you not eaten today?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m starving. I’ll have to hunt down some kind of food before the feast, or I don’t think I’ll make it.” I say the words in a light and joking tone, but I’m serious. I’m lightheaded and my arms feel week. The arm thing, though, could be from spending most of the day working on the frogs.

When I turn around, Severus is peering into a cabinet behind his desk. A few moments later, he pulls out a bowl. I walk over to his desk and watch.

“Here,” he frowns, handing me the bowl. I take it carefully and open it. Inside, there are different fruits. Grapes, watermelon, apples, and many others. My mouth waters.

“I hope you’re not just showing me this to tease,” I say. There’s an edge to my voice that I don’t intend but also don’t apologize for.

Severus grunts and hands me a fork. “No. You’ve already served your punishment today.”

I shake my head. “I have a few more to do.”

The man waves a hand. “I’ll have a fifth-year finish it. It’ll take them an hour to do the last five.”

“I think I did more than a hundred each hour,” I guess. Using the fork, I stab a piece of watermelon. When the fruit hits my tongue, my eyes close. A small moan escapes me. A new blush marks my cheeks as I chew. I look away from Severus. It wasn’t a sensual moan or anything. But it reminds me of my dream.

“I would say so,” Severus ignores the sound and nods at my estimate. He glances at me. “You don’t need to come in tomorrow. You’ve done a week’s worth of work. Your cousin, however, is not finished.”

I smile a little. “Nora needs it. She shouldn’t have cut class.”

Severus raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think Professor Flitwick would have instilled any true discipline in her.”

He references the reason I’ve been put into this mess—me implying (okay, more like directly stating) that Flitwick should punish Nora.

“It’s just instinct,” I shrug. “To protect her. Protect family. Or anyone that needs it, I suppose.” I look at Severus. “I don’t know if there’s an amount of punishment that’ll ever stop me from helping Nora.”

Severus frowns. “You failed to help her. She still served detention with _me_.”

My shoulders lift in a shrug. I finish chewing my fruit. “She didn’t do it alone.”

“She didn’t wait on you either.”

I small grin lifts the corners of my lips. “I didn’t think she would. She’s scared of you.”

“Hm. I think most of the Slytherins admire me more than fear me.”

Now, I laugh. “Yes. You’re the only one who won’t get in trouble for making fun of non-Slytherins. They admire your talent for insults. Even _I _can appreciate their cleverness sometimes.”

Severus raises his eyebrows. I continue: “I mean, sometimes they don’t even know that they’re being made fun of. Especially the younger ones. Beyond that, though. You have an eye for people’s weaknesses.”

“I do?” he says. It’s not a shocking question. The tone is somewhat sarcastic, but mostly humoring.

I roll my eyes. “You know you do. You’re a perfect Head of Slytherin. Of course, there are other aspects of the House that could be attended to more.”

Severus leans back on his desk. His eyes flicker with interest. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen this, and the only time it’s been directed toward me. A small thrill, an ounce of adrenaline, makes me shiver. Excitement of varying kinds flicker throughout my body. 

“Is that so? What aspects would _you_ focus on?” It’s a semi-mocking question. Implying that I may be getting too big for my britches. I talk on anyway, just because it feels… easy. It’s easy to talk to Severus.

“Well, we have quite a reputation as bullies. And I think most of the Slytherin students _do_ find it amusing to be clever in how one pokes fun of others. But there are so many useful qualities that we are supposed to have. Slytherin’s full of strong leaders. Beyond cleverness and ambition, there is resourcefulness and determination. Self-preservation makes us realists.

“So I think I’d focus on those things. Ways to be a better thinker and worker. Getting what we want in the best way.”

Finished with my small speech, I look at Severus. His expression isn’t very telling, but I think I see some inkling of amusement in his eyes.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Burke, for the future. Now, I think you may want to use this last hour to get ready for the feast.” Severus pauses. “Our _champion_ is to be revealed, after all.”

I laugh. The sarcasm in his words makes me smile and shake my head. “May Hogwarts be represented by the finest seventeen-year-old that we have to offer.”

Severus doesn’t chuckle, but his head lifts like when someone does, indeed, do so. Perhaps his body is slowly learning how to laugh. It doesn’t seem like Severus does so very often.

I lift the bowl, which is now empty. “Thank you for the fruit. I would’ve fainted on my way back to the common room otherwise.”

“You’re welcome.”

The words seem to shock Severus. He frowns. Shaking his head, he waves toward the door in a goodbye. I smile at him once before leaving.

“See you at dinner!” I say quickly before I escape to the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so fun to write! I intended this to be about the feast and champions, but I decided that a cute intermission would work too. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champions are chosen, and chaos ensues.

I eat the festive food with more vigor and passion than I’ve done anything in days. Nora and Aggie barely touch their plates, necks craned as if staring at Dumbledore will make him announce the champions quicker.

But I’m still hungry, even after Severus’s kind snack. It kept me from fainting, but I need something stronger. Sustenance. The meats and breads and vegetables find solid homes in my stomach. I drink eagerly, water and some mead that I coax my cup into filling up with. It’s a simple age-vexing spell. Make it think I’m old enough to be drinking on Hogwarts grounds.

It’s an hour of celebration, in my mind. Severus was kind today. It was after letting me work for hours without a break, but it was kindness. Perhaps… perhaps we are on our way to being friends. Conversations and fruit can lead to what? Conversations and tea?

I grin around my cup. Those are the big leagues of friendship. _Tea_. Later, if we get close, we can sit and chat over _coffee_. The true victory? Gossip and a_lcohol_.

The mead, however weak it is, does push me into a nice feeling with my empty stomach. Not near a buzz, but just a feeling of warmth and contentment. It doesn’t last long—the anxious feeling in the room starts to slowly infect me.

By the end of the feast, my leg is bouncing and I’m gripping my cup. Even I stare at Dumbledore. The old man does take his time eating. I didn’t rush, and I’m finished ten minutes before him.

Eventually, all of the dining plates become clean. Nora can’t contain her squeal beside me. Then, as Dumbledore stands, it dies in her mouth. I look up at Aggie, who has turned a shade paler. Did she enter? She looks more nervous than the others who didn’t enter (those below sixth year look eager and hopeful that the champion is Slytherin instead of truly fearful). _Oh, Aggie. _

I look at her, and a weird feeling pangs within my chest. I know she’s a competent witch. She’d perform fine. But… jealousy, maybe? Is that the feeling? Or just me being an awful friend?

I shake my head as I tune back into Dumbledore’s words. He’s saying something about the champions going off to a separate room for instructions. After, he waves his wand in a motion that involves his whole arm. The light in the room instantly dims, creating an air of seriousness that was not there a moment before.

The Cup’s flames blaze bright white and blue… until they don’t. The fire turns into a bright red. Small explosions must be happening within because sparks emerge from the piece. After a moment, a piece of paper, burnt around the edges, emerges from the wild flame.

Dumbledore catches it, reading it by the now blue flame.

“The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.” I blink. Some of the tension leaves my body. I don’t know why—I wasn’t rooting for any particular Durmstrang boy. Maybe it is just relief that we are a third of the way through this thing.

The thickly muscled Krum stands and walks by the staff table to the other room. He won’t be able to see the other champions chosen, I realize. What a bummer.

The fire transforms again, and other piece of parchment is released. Dumbledore catches it again.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!” A beautiful blonde girl stands from her table. Her peers are weeping, but I can’t pull my eyes from _her_. Merlin. I shake my head and look away. Aggie stares too, as does Ben. There’s something off about her. I clench my fist in an attempt to bring myself away from her until she leaves the room.

“She’s part-veela,” someone hisses. Ah. That explains that. At least my sudden interest was magically induced; love at first sight has never been a concept I put any real stock in.

Again, the Cup and its dramatic show.

“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”

The whole room explodes, but the blast is central to the Hufflepuff table. I laugh at their glee. They were standing, screaming, stomping—making great fools of themselves but not a single one of them caring. I smile as Cedric makes his journey. My own tension from earlier has completely dissolved. Now that the champions are known, I can focus on my classes and maybe study some tonight.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore says eventually. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure that I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can—”

The Cup.

It explodes into red again. Everyone stares at the artifact. My eyes are glued to it. A parchment. Hesitation and a pause from the Headmaster.

“Harry Potter.”

The room stares at the kid. My heart aches for him. No one cheers, just murmurings. My fellow Slytherins are hissing and harassing. Students stand to stare at him.

Nora, for once, is speechless.

Everyone is busy watching Potter struggle to stand when Dumbledore calls him. They don’t notice what I do.

The Cup is sparking once again, the color red illuminating Dumbledore’s slowly turning figure. One more parchment.

Dumbledore frowns. Everyone watches Harry stumble to the door the other champions had escaped through. My heart pounds as I watch Dumbledore.

Perhaps I should have predicted what is about to happen. My insides turning, my heart thumping. It happens sometimes, when things like this occur.

“Eris Burke.”

Dumbledore’s voice goes unrecognized for a moment. But eventually, after repeating himself, the room slowly turns to me. Harry has stopped, with a hand on the door. I am frozen for a moment, before pushing myself from my seat.

Aggie stares with concern. Ben with shock. Nora looks like someone had just slapped her across the face—mouth hanging open and everything.

I swallow and, shaking, take a few steps forward. There are even more low murmurs this time. Is the Cup rigged? Is something the matter with it?

I know for a fact that I did not put my name in that Goblet. And Harry’s face… I frown when I make my way to where he is stuck to the floor.

Once, I glance up at Severus. There is surprise in his eyes, though his face remains frozen in its usual expression of disdain. I don’t know what my expression conveys—I’m too shocked—but it makes his frown deepen.

“Come on,” I murmur to Harry, straightening my spine. Showing him how to walk. He mimics me. And so, without looking at the rest of Hogwarts, Harry follows me out of the Great Hall.

* * *

The three proper champions sit around a fire. But I can’t notice them. My heart is throbbing. I can feel my pulse in my face and toes. My fingers start to tingle, but I close my eyes.

“Harry, what is going on?” I whisper. The others stare at us, but we are a distance away. They can’t hear. We have precious seconds until the staff barges in.

“I don’t have a clue,” I hear the Boy Who Lived respond, voice panicked.

I open my eyes. His face is the same. “Okay. Okay, I believe you. I didn’t do this, either. I don’t know what is going to happen.” I glance up at the other champions. Seventeen and mature, each of them. I look back down at Harry. “Stick with me until we figure this out, okay?”

Harry nods once.

“What is it?” Fleur asks. Her veela self doesn’t even phase me now. I have a hand on Harry’s shoulder. I know that this isn’t a challenge, and that we aren’t in danger. But I have the urge to push the fourteen-year-old behind me and draw my wand.

It’s similar to what I feel with Nora. A familial need to _protect. _

Ludo Bagman enters the room first. The door pushes open with a violent manner. He steps closer to Harry, to both me and Harry I guess, but I step forward to meet him. His eyes leave Harry for the first time to look at me. He’s taller, but I am fierce.

I know what look I have in my eyes. Animals are dangerous when threatened. And I am borderline dangerous now, with this confusion. My name was entered. How the hell was I chosen? And it’s not like I was chosen as Hogwarts’ champion! So what, was my name entered under Ilvermorny? If so, what was Harry’s name entered under?

How the hell does a _Tri_wizard Cup spit out _five_ names?

“It’s an extraordinary situation,” Bagman observes. His excitement that Harry seemed to have inspired within him is fading by the heartbeat. “Absolutely. Gentlemen and lady, may I introduce—amazingly—the _fourth_ and_ fifth_ Triwizard champions?”

I come close to laughing. Not a sweet one, or an innocent one. Not a laugh that could get me out of trouble. A laugh that starts trouble.

The champions look between me and Harry. Krum’s face becomes dark and analytic. Looking for weaknesses. He only glances over Harry. His focus is on me. I set my face and meet his eyes. So, he’s from a big bad school? He’s on a Quidditch team? I clench my jaw.

Cedric Diggory, who I’ve talked to some, is bewildered. I don’t need to intimidate him—he just looks stumped. As if this is some kind of riddle for him to figure out.

Fleur flicks her hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, very funny joke, Mister Bagman.” Her French accent makes Mister sound like Meester.

“Joke?” Bagman shakes his head. “There is no joke. Harry and… I’m sorry, what was your name?”

I glare at the man. “Eris. Eris Burke.”

“Eris Burke!” Bagman exclaims. “Harry and Eris’s names came from the Goblet of Fire!”

Fleur points out Harry’s age, but stops when she looks at me. What’s my excuse? I truly could have just entered my name through Ilvermorny. That, and hexed the Cup. I’ve learned enough exploring our basement full of my mother’s rare art and artifacts to know not to try to cast upon mysterious objects. Things end badly.

The doors suddenly fly open. A flock of adults enter. Without thinking, I step back to Harry’s side. I don’t grab his shoulder this time, even if I have the urge to. This instinct is for deliberation later, though. It’s not the time to figure out why _this_ kid is something I want to protect. I decide to leave it at his young age.

Dumbledore leads the pack. Behind him, Crouch. I shiver when I see him, but it isn’t as bad as when he first entered the Great Hall. Behind them, Madam Maxine, McGonagall, Severus, and Karkaroff join us in the quickly crowding room.

Fleur calls for her instructor, talking about the apparent mistake that has been made. “They are saying that this little boy is to compete also!” Harry stiffens. Ouch. I guess he’s not immune to Fleur, and an attractive young woman calling you a little boy has got to sting.

“What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?” Maxine asks the Headmaster. I look to him as well. He holds two pieces of parchment.

“I’d like to know that myself,” Karkaroff agrees. “_Three_ Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed three champions—”

“Two.”

The room freezes. Looks toward me. I clear my throat. “I didn’t put my name in the Goblet of Fire,” I start. “Someone else did. But, if I’m predicting rightly, my name won’t be under Hogwarts, was it?” I look at Dumbledore.

The old man looks into my eyes. I glance away from his gaze. There’s a funny tickle in the back of my mind. I shake my head. When I look back up, he is nodding.

“Correct, Miss Burke. Your name was entered under Ilvermorny.”

I nod once. “And what, Harry was entered under a false school? One that he surely did not attend?”

Another assent from Dumbledore. I look at Harry.

Then, the room explodes. Not literally. Everyone is talking at once. Dumbledore, Maxine, and Karkaroff argue. Dumbledore’s skills are called into question. McGonagall is quick to defend him. I tune them all out and look down at Harry. He hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. He looks just like he did in that doorway last night.

The attention may not be on him directly, but he feels the heat. Slowly, I touch his arm. He looks up at me, and I nod once. I keep my face serious, but my eyes reassuring. He nods back. I exhale.

“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s,” Severus hisses. I look up at his voice. Eyes drawing together. “Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break rules. And if he confused the Cup, Miss Burke’s name could also pass by the Cup’s settings—”

“Neither Harry nor I put our names in the Goblet of Fire,” I respond to the man. His eyes squint as his focus turns to me. Something between us clashes. Now, though, he isn’t giving me detention. Here, in this space, I will respond to him as I see fit.

Dumbledore clears his throat. Turns to me and Harry. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asks calmly.

“No,” Harry responds. His voice is soft but sure. Severus grunts, and I glare.

The Headmaster turns to me. “You said that you did not either—is there anyone in Hogwarts that you think would?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any enemies”—besides Wren, and she’s enemies with everyone so it hardly counts— “and I told everyone that I didn’t even want to compete. That I have to focus on my classes here.”

Dumbledore takes a breath. Turns to Harry. “Did you ask an older student to put your name in the Goblet of Fire for you?”

“No,” Harry replies, voice stronger.

“Of course, the girl did it for him! And the Goblet of Fire got confused and took hers as well!” Karkaroff accuses, voice shrill.

“Yeah?” I bite back. “It wrote my name down on a paper and everything? That Cup you guys have must be quite talented!”

Karkaroff’s cheeks redden. He’s about to speak again when McGonagall interrupts. “The Age Line held perfectly. This is nonsense. Harry could not cross the line if he wished, and even if Eris entered under Ilvermorny, the Goblet of Fire would not have given out more than three names! If Professor Dumbledore believes that this is not the fault of our two students, then it should be good enough for everyone!”

She shoots Severus an angry look, and suddenly I’m sad that I have no classes taught by McGonagall.

“Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Karkaroff begins, voice strong in his conviction. “You are our objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”

Bagman looks at Crouch, who looks thin and scary in this lighting.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.” His voice is simple but punctual. These are the rules.

It his me now that, wow, I am going to compete in this thing. I take a deep breath. I feel Harry’s hand touch my arm. Grateful for the grounding touch, a small smile forms on my lips. My soon-to-come freak out is delayed. For now.

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” Bagman smiles wide.

Karkaroff tries to get a re-count. A re-submit. Whatever. Dumbledore explains to the apparently idiotic man that it doesn’t work like that. I could’ve said that, but I keep my mouth shut. Perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn enough today.

“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growls a familiar voice. Into the _already crowded _room, Moody walks in. I don’t pay attention to Moody and Karkaroff getting into it, just focus on my own breathing. What are my parents going to think? God, how will I tell them?

_‘Hey, Mom. Dad. So, you know how you thought it would be good for me to get a good experience at Hogwarts? Well, I’ll be giving the word _immersive_ a brand new meaning this year!’_

The only thing from their argument is Moody’s words: “Maybe someone’s hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it.”

I frown at that. Harry is tense as a board beside me. I clench my jaw at these adults. To wave his mortality like that in front of him… But then another thought hits me. Moody is paranoid, but is he right? The Boy Who Lived. He survived Voldemort’s attack. And the Quidditch Cup…

Is this some kind of plot to hurt Harry? And if so, why the fuck am _I_ here?

Moody explains how powerful the threat is: “They hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I’m guessing they submitted Potter and Burke’s names under other schools, to make sure they are chosen.”

I could kiss Moody, really, for including me in that theory. Harry, obviously, had some kind of mix up. But me? I feel awfully suspicious of being said wizard. But Moody’s tone implied that he didn’t think I was strong enough to hoodwink the Cup. Which was probably true. I haven’t practiced any work with artifacts, even being around my mother. They scared me too much—to unpredictable with lost patches in their histories.

More bickering among the adults. Severus is quiet. I look at the man, who watches the scene in front of us with precision observation. His eyes snap to mine. I frown, but underneath all of this confusion… I hope he believes me. I just told him how I didn’t see myself as qualified!

But not unqualified to compete, a small voice reminds me. Just unqualified to compete under Hogwarts’s name.

I shake my head and tune back into the chaos before me. Bagman pushes Crouch into giving us our champion instructions.

“The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important…” He trails off, then continues. “The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted form end-of-year tests.”

My hope falls apart. I think, deep down, I was excited to compete. But my NEWTS are the only reason I came to Hogwarts happily. I could have a quiet finish to my schooling. I close my eyes. Maybe exempted doesn’t mean I _can’t _take them. I shake my head.

After the adults have left, Dumbledore turns to me, Harry, and Cedric. He smiles. “I suggest you three go up to bed. I am sure that Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

A chuckle escapes me. Dumbledore raises amused eyebrows. “Ravenclaw deserves a new bookshelf or something,” I explain. “Since they are the only House without a champion.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s eyes wrinkle and he smiles. “I will see what I can do. That’s quite considerate, Miss Burke.” I shrug.

Cedric is the first to leave. I gesture Harry forward. I walk behind him. I glance back once, but it’s too quick and all I know is that Severus is still in the room when we go.

* * *

Cedric escapes to wherever the Hufflepuffs dwell. I pull Harry aside before he can run to Gryffindor’s tower. (Lots of Gryffindor secrets and rumors are listed in a hidden book in Slytherin’s common room. There’s not a lot about the other Houses there.)

“Harry,” I clear my throat. “I’ll walk you to your common room, if you want?”

Harry shrugs. We walk in silence for a minute before he stops and turns to me. “You believed me.”

I smile sadly. “I do believe you. I didn’t enter my name, and I don’t think you knew it before the past hour. So it’s not like you could’ve entered my name. And Moody was right. You don’t have the magic to alter the Cup.”

Harry looks at me for a second. His perception surprises me when he says, “So do _you_ have the magic to alter the Goblet of Fire?”

I shrug honestly. “Maybe. But I don’t have the stupidity to try to hex something so powerful. So whoever did this to us, if they were the same people, are either idiots or know exactly what they’re doing.”

Harry swallows.

I guess what he’s thinking. “You’re afraid that Voldemort’s behind this.”

His whole head quickly turns to me, eyes wide. Bright green eyes. Emerald with sharpness within. The boy is on his toes.

“He’s one of the only people who want me dead.”

I chuckle. A soft one. Light in a grave truth. “’Only one?’ Who else wants you dead, kid?”

He shrugs and looks away. Now, I frown. “Is this about the Malfoy kid? What, Draco or whatever-his-name wants you dead?” Harry shrugs. I scoff. “He talks big game, Harry, but he won’t do a thing. If he does, just tell me and I’ll take him out. Quietly, of course,” I wink.

Even in the dark, I catch Harry’s blush. We reach the Gryffindor common room right after.

Before he can start to look uncomfortable about revealing his password to me, I turn to him. A serious expression on my face, I bury my blue eyes in his green ones.

“Listen to me, Harry.” He nods, eyes wide. “Fleur was right. Compared to us, you are young. Inexperienced. And the way that Dumbledore spoke of the Tournament, it will be very dangerous. Deadly. So, I just wanted to offer you my help. I don’t know if I have the ability to make you win, but I can keep you safe. If you need help at any point, you just wave to me. Alright? I know that you’re in Gryffindor and have this immortal feud with Slytherin. But you can trust me.”

Harry seems speechless when I shake his hand and leave him to his House.

* * *

When I escape the Slytherin celebration, I cast a silencing charm around my room. 

And I scream, scream, scream until I am nothing but exhausted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of dumbledore's speech and some of the conversation after the feast is from the Goblet of Fire. most of it was changed/altered in some way or another by me. but either way, J.K Rowling was a huge inspiration in it, so credit to her. 
> 
> I know this chapter didn't have a lot of Severus/Eris action, but we have a month before the first challenge, so don't worry. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. It's been a year since I updated this fic--I had a huge transition in my life and I didn't have the time or desire to keep on writing this story.  
But I've decided to continue. I don't know for how long, but I've written a few more chapters I'm excited to share with you guys. Thank you for all of the comments!  
This chapter isn't super long, but I'll post a big one tomorrow.

I wake up early with the sun. With how late I was awake, I’m amazed that I’m up before lunch. With fatigue dragging on me, I get dressed in casual jeans and a tight sweater. Being Sunday morning, I don’t have class. Which is unfortunate—the distraction would have been welcome. 

I grab my bag, full of textbooks and notes, and leave my room. The common room has only a few students, some studying, some just drinking coffee. I get a couple nods and smiles, but many just ignore me and keep to their own business. It’s preferable to me, I am not in the mood for attention. I got my fill of it last night.

Aggie hung out with me for a while, but she got distracted by Mandie at my insistence. Ben stayed close, almost protective of me. I don’t know how he was so perceptive with my hidden agitation. Nora, however, relished in the positive attention from our House. With such a fierce environment, it’s better to fly under the radar. Wren didn’t say anything at all to me. She mostly pouted on the sidelines. 

When I leave the common room, Elizabeth yells after me. She calls me every synonym for ‘slut’ without actually saying the word. I guess to her, I should be wearing shapeless, modest gowns. She was from the 20s—I don’t know how her 1700s ideals managed to transfer to her through so many centuries. But then I remember my grandmother, and the mystery is solved. 

I pass by Severus’s classroom on my journey to the Great Hall. I can start some reading while I eat, or I can grab a quick bite and head to the library. The library may be the best to avoid others, but the appeal of exploring the castle to find an isolated room also draws my attention. 

My mind goes back to the party last night. I got a lot of congratulations on my cunning and skill in pursuit of getting my name entered. A few had questions about Potter’s name. I didn’t answer any questions about it, giving only mysterious smiles. Not admitting anything to any possibility. 

There’s not even a month until the first challenge. I run a hand through my hair, tugging on my scalp. Just the thought of a mysterious magical challenge makes my heart start to speed up. I plan on spending the day studying, but it feels almost pointless. 

No. It’s not pointless. I am at Hogwarts to finish my studies, get training in Healing, and become an accomplished witch entering the adult wizarding world. 

I’m wondering about Harry when Severus joins me on my walk. He turns into the hallway as I pass by a corridor and is heading in the same direction as me. I frown. Awkward situation.  
“Good morning,” I offer. 

“Good morning,” he replies. I don’t say anything else, my tiredness and stress keeping my energy for conversation with him low. He picks up the slack: “You seemed close to Potter last night.”

His words surprise me. That’s not what I expected. I was predicting a lecture on making a fool of myself and therefore Slytherin. Questions about how I supposedly tricked the Goblet of Fire. Maybe a look of distaste in my direction. I did not expect an inquiry about Harry Potter. 

I shrug. “He’s too young. That’s why there was an Age Line to begin with, right? I feel like I need to help him. Keep him alive at the very least.”

Severus was already frowning, as it is his natural state, but it deepens. “None of the other champions seem to hold that… belief. It might be detrimental to think that way.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The other champions are supposed to be there. Harry and I are outliers. I guess we have a lot in common just about now. The trials are dangerous for me, but I imagine they’re going to be lethal to Harry. I can handle myself. Winning is…” I search for the words. 

“Preferable but not an absolute ending?” Severus supplies. I nod. 

“Until I can figure out why I was entered, I’m not sure if winning or not will play into the person’s—or people’s—plan. Assuming that I’m even able to win anything. The challenges may be too difficult for me.”

Severus snorts. My chest warms at that. Is that…doubt at my self-deprecation of my abilities? I take it as a compliment. I shift my bag from one shoulder to another. With a professor next to me, none of the few students we pass gawks as obviously. 

“It’s crazy,” I observe quietly. “No one in Hogwarts, beyond upper-year Slytherins, knew who I was before last night. My name, my face, maybe. But now?” I wince. “Soon, everyone will know my name.”

My tone is shaky. A few memories, thoughts, feelings from Ilvermorny creep into my mind for the first time in weeks. With this much attention on me, from both inside and outside of Hogwarts, any secrets or privacy I may have will likely be out in the open soon. It makes me want to run back to my room, throw up wards, and never come out. 

“You think that’s a bad thing?” Severus inquires. 

I chuckle. “Yeah. I guess I’m not one of the Slytherin types that want all the glory and will do anything to get it. I’m more of a stand-out-where-I’m-talented kind of woman.”

“And where are you talented?” Severus asks, but his lips tighten at the end of the question. Like he is displeased with himself for asking. 

Immediately, an innuendo pops into my head. I’m sure it also pops into my Potions Professor’s thoughts as well. Not missing a beat, I reply, “I’m talented over a cauldron. In combat. Healing. Being an Animagus if it counts. Other non-magical ways that I’m sure don’t hold much weight here.” I frown. “But it just sounds like I’m bragging now, doesn’t it?”

Severus waves a hand. “Knowing your abilities doesn’t make it arrogance.”

I tilt my head. “And where are you talented, Severus?”

The sudden darkness in his dark eyes makes me flinch. Oops. Too far. Lucky for us, we are right in front of the Great Hall. Instead of answering, Severus opens the doors and heads right for the staff table. I wince at his back. 

I eat without looking once at the head table. A blush has seemed to settle on my cheeks that won’t go away. It’s not often I get embarrassed. I eat a quick meal of toast and jelly. With the stroll with Severus taking up some time, Aggie and Ben manage to catch me on my way out. 

They try to talk to me, check in and everything, but I smile and don’t stay long. No actual conversation. Asking Aggie about her obvious hangover, Ben asking me how I slept. Normal, quick questions. 

I get to the library in record time. I never saw Harry in the Great Hall, though I was keeping an eye out. Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor made appearances, though. Early starts for the champions, apparently. 

The library is almost empty. There’s only one girl at a table. A stack of toast sits on a napkin next to her, though her only focus is on her book. 

“Hey,” I say quietly when I approach her. She jumps in surprise. “You’re Harry’s friend, right?”

She nods. “Yes, I’m Her—”

“Hermione Granger,” I smile. I hold out a hand, which she shakes. “Eris Burke. It’s a pleasure.” 

“You’re the other champion,” Hermione observes.

“Yep. Well. One of the five. One of two that are definitely not supposed to be involved.”

A blush spreads across her face at my friendly tone. I can’t tell if she’s trusting of me just yet. I do wear green Slytherin robes, after all. The young witch seems so flustered. I smile. 

“Is this about Harry?” she asks. She glances at the stack of toast, and I wonder if it’s for him. Good.

I shrug. “Kinda. But I also wanted to make sure I had at least one conversation with the Smartest Witch of Her Year while she was still at Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s lips part, blush getting redder. Then she shakes her head and straightens up. I can see her pride purr in response to my petting. 

I continue: “I’m sure you know that this Tournament, especially with Harry’s involvement, is going to be tough. Lots of press, lots of pressure. No offense, but that’s a lot for a fourteen-year-old boy to handle alone. I told him that he can trust me, and that’s true, but I can’t keep an eye on him like you can. I want to help him during the challenges, keep him safe. But I need reassurance that he’s got good friends outside of the arena. If there is an arena.”

“Well, of course I’ll be here for him. He’s one of my best friends. I’m researching the Tournament right now,” she says, showing me the cover of her book. “Ron’s right angry at him currently.”

I look at the book. “Anything interesting in there? And why’s Ron mad?”

Hermione shakes her head. “They change challenges every year. They don’t recycle. It’s mostly information about the point system and past challenges.” She pauses. “Harry’s the Boy Who Lived. It’s hard, sometimes, to be close to someone that famous.”

I frown slightly. “It’s not going to get better—his fame, I mean. Are you going to be okay with that?”

A strength builds behind Hermione’s eyes. I smile. I know exactly why this girl wasn’t in Ravenclaw. Her intelligence is marvelous, but there are other traits inside of her than those beyond a typical scholar. 

“Of course,” she responds. “And Ron will come around.”

I nod a couple of times. A moment later, a pull a muffin from my bag. I add it to Hermione’s pile of toast. 

“Tell him I said ‘good morning,’” I smile at Hermione as I stand. “And let me know if there is anything I can do—for you or for Harry. I know a lot about Ilvermorny; you know, if you’re ever interested.” 

Hermione’s bushy brown hair moves with her assent. I leave her area feeling warm, then tucking into a hidden corner of the library before getting some studying done myself.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! this is just a quick chapter covering an incident from the books. if you've read the books, you might notice a few of the impacts Eris has on the situation. 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading!

_Severus wakes up exhausted, with only a few words from his dreams following him to wakefulness. The voice is soft, the knowledge of what her words would mean coming across subtly under her tone. Almost imperceptible, her teasing. _

_“And where are you talented, Severus?” she asks, blue eyes innocent but with a fire almost hidden inside them. _

_The man takes a deep, deep breath. _

_When he asked her about her talents, there had been the quickest flash in her expression. Excitement. _

_He prays that she did not see his own. _

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures is as easy as ever, so I end up hanging out with some Thestrals after I finish caring for the nasty skrewts for the fourth years. They usually arrive for their class at least the last half hour of ours—an odd overlap. It works out, though—us seventh years get to practice taming and calming the creatures for the fourth years to do their thing.

It’s the first time I see Harry since the Goblet of Fire did its thing. I watch him and Hagrid talk while I caress a Thestral. The creature huffs when I’m distracted. I usually skip lunch on Mondays. I like to be around the creatures. Hagrid sneaks me some kind of snack after he guides the fourth years sometimes.

“I wonder if you would let me ride you,” I whisper to the Thestral I am petting. She pushes against my hand in response. I smile. “Maybe one day. I doubt Hagrid would take it very well if I sped off on your back in front of all the kids.” I pull a hand down her skeletal body. She moves to nibble at me, but I pull out of her way. I learned that lesson a few days ago. Nibbles from other creatures? Cute, adorable. While Thestrals have the same warm intentions of things like the Nibblers, they do not have the same harmless bite.

Hagrid joins me a few minutes later.

“The lad said you’ve offered to help ‘im,” Hagrid says.

I nod, continuing to pet the Thestral. “I did.”

Hagrid frowns as he watches me and the Thestral. “I’m sure ya know, only those who ‘ave seen and understand death can see those creatures.”

My heart thumps once. I do know that.

“I think it’s interesting,” I confess to Hagrid. “Do you know if it the Thestral that knows that the wizard has seen death, or does something about the wizard’s magic and aura change when they see death? Does something change about our magic that allows us to see such creatures?”

Hagrid frowns in thought, eyebrows scrunched together to form one long brow. “Ya know, I ne’er thought ‘bout it like that.”

I smile at the half-giant, and he grins back, big and wide.

* * *

A few days later, after lunch, I’m heading to my room really quickly to grab a book I forgot when I notice the scene in the dungeon halls. Harry and Draco Malfoy, antagonizing each other. I take a deep breath when I approach. There’s a crowd of Slytherin and Gryffindor students waiting for their Potions class to start.

I was wondering how much harder Harry might’ve had it if I had not been selected and celebrated as a Slytherin champion when I hear Draco’s words— “Don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want ay Mudblood sliming it up.”

Just like every time I hear someone say the word, my body tenses up. When I see Hermione’s face in response, the anger and another emotion I can’t describe—the air leaves my body. Anger flushes down my body.

Before I can intervene, Harry and Malfoy are flinging curses at each other. Their curses meet in the middle, and I instinctively duck to avoid being hit by a stray spell. I was fourteen once; I was stupid enough not to know the danger of clashing curses then, too. Well, maybe not, but many of my classmates were.

I hear a familiar voice cry out and look up from where I pressed myself against the wall. There, Hermione Granger panics. Her teeth are growing. I rush over to her, trying to keep emotion off of my face. It’s kind of a funny sight—but an unfortunate one.

Ron Weasley (I assume from the hair and similar looks to the Weasley twins) is with her, trying to get her to show her teeth. I walk over to her. “Hello again, Hermione,” I smile softly. Bedside manner. I pull her away from the crowd slightly, so I can assess the damage at least semi-privately. If those teeth grow down her jaw, or her throat, this could become a gruesome, painful mess. I hear the Slytherin children laughing, but I shut the sound out.

I coax the girl into removing her hands, Ron trying to help but just being annoying. When I see that her teeth are growing _out_ instead of _in_, I exhale. “Alright, Hermione. You’ll be fine.” I wave my wand, and her teeth stop growing. “A few cosmetic spells and we can get you taken care of easy.”

The boy who got hit cries out. I turn around, just in time to see that Severus has arrived.

“And what is all this noise about?” he asks. His voice is quiet, but there’s something cold in it. His eyes are focused on Malfoy. “Explain,” he demands.

“Potter attacked me sir—” Malfoy starts. I keep my face blank. The Goyle kid has some kind of fungal growth on it, painful boils leaving him in a much worse state than Hermione.

“We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry shouts.

“—and he hit Goyle—look—”

“Hospital wing, Goyle,” Severus orders after examining the boy. He must have come to the same conclusion I did—it’s not growing, so he’s fine for the immediate moment. Madam Pomfrey can take care of the rest at the hospital wing.

“Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron says. “Look!”

Severus meets my eyes. There isn’t surprise in them—he must’ve already noticed me. But not acknowledged me.

“Miss Burke. What are you doing?”

“I’m trained in Healing,” I shrug. “Just trying to help out.” When our eyes meet again, there’s something… different. I almost gasp in response. There’s heat in his black irises. With the children he is cold and scary. This is… ‘different’ is the word that keeps coming to the forefront of my mind.

He glances at the cowering girl behind me. For a moment, I’m afraid he’ll embarrass her. Instead, he forces Goyle and Hermione to go to the Hospital Wing, each with a fellow student from their House to escort them, and strict orders not to talk to each other on the way.

Ron and Harry glare at Severus. I feel the tension in the air and pray that the boys are smart enough not to start yelling at a Professor.

“Now. Unless anyone has anything to say,” Severus glares at the two Gryffindor boys, “I would like to start the lesson. Get inside and begin the work on the board.” After the students have filed into the class, Severus looks at me. “In my office, Miss Burke.”

I swallow. Perhaps a week ago, this would be exciting. But there’s been an embarrassing play on words since then and no conversation since.

Severus’s office is near the Potions classroom, only a few doors away. He waves his wand at the door and opens it, holding it open for me to pass. Even though I want to do nothing but sprint to my room, I swallow and step inside.

There’s a lit fireplace on the wall, as well as a dark wooded desk. There’s a table and a few chairs, but I’m distracted by the walls. The walls are covered in jars of potions. They are so colorful, I start attempting to identify them based on that alone, but it’s difficult when they’re sealed and immobile.

The room is dim, but it brightens when Severus enters. I turn around to face him while he walks in and stands in front of his desk. He leans against it, crossing his arms, and waits for me. I frown and look around. Unsure of what else to do, I pull a chair from the table and sit facing him.

“Do you want to know what happened in the hallway?” I ask, trailing off the question.

Severus raises an eyebrow. “Did something interesting happen beyond children squabbling?”

My mouth opens, then closes. “Uh, no. Not really. Draco did call Hermione a—”

“Yes, I figured.”

I frown. “That doesn’t mean anything to you? Children calling each other derogatory terms?”

Severus frowns. “There would be no use in punishing them. The Slytherins will protect each other. And most students that say it live in homes that use it—powerful, pureblood families.” I look at him incredulously. He takes a breath. “I could give detentions for it all I wanted, Miss Burke, but the only thing that would happen would be them being quieter around me.”

I sigh. I bite back my disagreement. 

“Then why am I here, Professor?” I ask. Severus’s lips twitch when I refer to him by his title.

“So unfamiliar now?” he asks. I blink a few times. Bold. A few beats pass in silence. He doesn’t seem to be expecting a response from me—or he knows I won’t. He continues, “There will be some Tournament business today. Wand weighing. I wanted to offer my services in case your wand needs to be… altered.”

I tilt my head. “Why would it need to be altered?”

Severus gives me an annoyed look. He knows I’m being ignorant on purpose. “You’re a Slytherin, Miss Burke,” he says as an explanation. “If you don’t need my help, you may go.” He nods toward the door.

I stand, but instead of leaving, I walk to the nearest wall of potions. I keep my hands intertwined behind my back to keep from touching the glass. The jars aren’t labeled, though I do figure out most of their identities by getting a closer look.

“What are these?” I ask, pointing to a few bright orange jars. “I don’t recognize them.”

“Do you not have class, Miss Burke?” Severus asks. I shrug.

“It’s hard to focus on class when I might die in a couple of weeks,” I mutter.

“You’re not going to die.”

I turn to him. “Being maimed is still on the table, then,” I joke. I try a small smile. His eyes tighten in response. Tough crowd.

“I think you’ll be fine, Miss Burke. Especially with your… abilities and talents.”

I observe Severus closely. “Do you know anything about the challenge?”

Finally, Severus smiles. It’s not joyful, though. It’s a cunning, wicked grin. “You wouldn’t be trying to seek an advantage over the other champions, would you? I believe it’s called cheating.”

I grin. “Of course not. Just merely wondering out loud.”

For some reason, this is when I decide to truly take in Severus. The way he leans against the desk shows off his long, lean body. He wears all of the layers of Hogwarts, with his robe and clothes underneath, but there’s a certain air he exudes that goes beyond it. The urge to touch him is overwhelming. I want to feel his shoulders, his sides, his hips. I look away before I make a fool of myself by staring at him.

“If I did know anything about it, Miss Burke, then I wouldn’t be worried about your performance. From what I saw in Alastor Moody’s classroom, you know how to think clearly in high-stress situations. And from what else I saw… you’re likely the best champion of the lot.”

My eyes snap back up to Severus after the last bit.

“That sound awfully like a compliment,” I observe.

“It’s an assessment.”

A few beats pass. “I think we could be friends,” I observe out loud. “Or, could’ve been.” I shrug. “I was friendly with my Professors at Ilvermorny. But it’s different when you’ve known someone since they were eleven. I just—” I look at Severus. “Never mind.”

I’m heading toward the door when I hear him. He’s quiet.

“Why would you want to be my friend, Miss Burke?”

One hand on the door, I slowly turn around. “I think we have a lot in common.” I let my expression be sincere. “And… I like talking to you.”

He doesn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to. I leave the room quietly.

My feet take me away, perhaps toward whatever class I should be in right now. I have no destination in mind—my body keeps busy while my mind replays the last twenty minutes on repeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how short it feels! I'll upload another chapter either tomorrow or the next day. 
> 
> leave a comment if you want! I read every single one.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weighing of the wands!

I’m helping Madam Pomfrey remove the growth from Goyle’s face when a young Gryffindor boy pushes into the hospital wing, out of breath.

I immediately straighten. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” I look him up and down, searching his body for some kind of injury, as I quickly walk over to him.

“I’m fine!” he quips. “You’re needed by Mr. Bagman. For pictures,” he explains. “For the Triwizard Tournament!”

I frown. Severus had mentioned the wand weighing, but nothing about a photo shoot. I look down at my smock, covered in pink and purple liquid from the fungus on Goyle. I look over to Madam Pomfrey, who waves me away with a smile. She’s been kind enough not to mention the Tournament.

“Call me if you need anything,” I tell her before shedding my soiled overclothes and putting them in the dirty bin.

The boy, introducing himself as Colin Creevey, leads me to the room with everyone. On the walk, he reminds me of Nora in the worst way—he doesn’t stop talking. I’m using my well-practiced skills in tuning people out when we arrive at the room.

Colin bids me farewell before I enter. Inside, Harry, Krum, Cedric, and Fleur are already inside. The desks are pushed away from the center of the small room. Five chairs have been singled out, though.

I slip to Harry’s side. I want to talk to him about the incident in the corridor an hour ago, but Bagman stands up. “There they are! The last two champions! We have all we need for the want weighing ceremony! Except the rest of the judges, and honestly they are less important than you five…”

“Wand weighing?” Harry asks.

“We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead,” Bagman explains. I imagine that they likely check for more than basic functionality. I think back to Severus’s offer. Bagman goes on the announce a photoshoot and introduces the strange witch in the room as Rita Skeeter.

Her white curls seem to be held together with a magical charm. Awful glasses with gems and rhinestones glued onto them hang on for life at the tip of her nose. She wears long nails that she’s way too old to pull off. Thick makeup, meant to distract from her wide jaw, fails at its job. I get a bad feeling from her.

“I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?” she asks. I frown. I understand wanting an interview with Harry. She talks to Bagman, but her predatory gaze is focused in on Harry. It makes me want to question her, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Certainly,” Bagman nods. “Unless Harry has an objection? I’m sure Eris would want to give an interview as well—”

“Oh we won’t have time for me to interview Eris, unfortunately!” Skeeter interrupts, not sounding very sad at all. Which is fine with me, since I don’t want to go anywhere with this lady. I don’t want Harry to go either; he tries to object, but Skeeter drags him away.

I turn to Cedric. “Isn’t that a broom cupboard?”

Cedric smiles at me, Hufflepuff shining through. “Yes. Rita Skeeter…” he trails off.

“I get the feeling that she does things on the dramatic side,” I say quietly. Cedric doesn’t agree verbally, but his eyes light up in a way that says I’m spot on.

“How are you doing?” I ask him.

“I’ve never done a photoshoot,” he admits. “I mean, there are usually pictures after Quidditch matches, but—” he stops when he sees my deep smile. A small blush forms on his handsome cheeks.

“I meant about the Tournament. The attention in general,” I clarify. “But I haven’t ever had a photoshoot either.”

“Ah—well, I’m nervous, of course, but—”

The judges enter the room, interrupting Cedric. I give him a pat on the arm, nodding that we can finish the conversation later. Cedric is handsome and kind, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have ulterior motives in assessing him. He is competition, after all. And even if I choose to lose the Tournament on purpose, there’s no such thing as too much information.

When Dumbledore joins us, he looks around the room, eyebrows drawn together.

That’s when I hear Harry yelling. I’m closest to the door, and I swing it open. Dumbledore is right behind my shoulder.

Harry’s face is upset. The feeling of my wand inside my sleeve pulls my focus for a moment. I could draw it, demand Rita Skeeter’s explanation, but Dumbledore puts a hand on my shoulder. Like he knows what I’m feeling, my distrust for this woman and my desire to protect Harry.

When the boy sees us, he stands, looks down at the box between him and Skeeter in confusion, then at the woman hastily messing with her obnoxious handbag.

“Dumbledore!” she cries, falsely joyful. “How are you?” I don’t pay attention to their conversation, instead tilting my head to gesture behind me. Harry stands up and walks over to me. I move past Dumbledore so the boy can get out of the damn broom closet.

“You alright?” I whisper, eyes examining him. But I think Skeeter annoyed and irritated him more than anything.

“Yes,” he says simply, though he looks shaken. Then he looks at me. “She has this quill…” I frown, but Harry has no time to explain before Dumbledore is talking. Skeeter sits in a corner. I watch her quill, but it seems normal. That means nothing in a world of magic, though.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” Dumbledore says. The Headmaster sits at the table with the other judges. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament.”

An old man, Mr. Ollivander, asks Fleur for her wand. The half-veela gracefully hands him her wand. He twirls the wand with skill and dexterity I didn’t think a man that age could have. The wand shoots out pink and gold parks. Then, the wand master holds the wood close to his eyes like he’s looking for the tiniest imperfection.

He murmurs some things about her wand that I can hardly hear, let alone make sense of. How does he know that her wand is nine and a half inches just by looking? That it is inflexible? I lean back against the wall, impressed.

Fleur admits that the core is from a veela, and Mr. Ollivander mutters, “_Orchideous_!” and flowers burst from the thing. The man gives the wand his approval.

He recognizes Cedric’s wand as one from his own creation. I come close to rolling my eyes when Cedric admits to polishing it last night, not even knowing about this ceremony. I like him, I do—but it’s a little much. Perhaps it is the Slytherin traits in me to scoff a little at a Hufflepuff.

Mr. Ollivander uses Cedric’s wand to create smoke rings and announces it perfectly fine.

Krum is next, scowling as he submits his wand to be inspected. I frown at this. Suspicious, or just grumpy?

“Hmm. This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling was never quite what I… however…” The man turns the wand over and over in his hands, muttering until he announces, “_Avis_!”

I jump in surprise when a loud bang emits from the wand and birds emerge from the wand. For a moment, I watch the small creatures fly out of the window in a peaceful moment.

Harry is next, and Mr. Ollivander almost squeals in delight. “I remember this one! Ahhh, yes. How I remember. Phoenix feather. So curious…” The man spends a long few minutes with the wand. I want to ask him if we all should leave the room in case he wants some true private time with it. After testing it, he hands it back to Harry.

I hand my own wand, painfully, to the old man. He frowns when it touches his skin. He turns it over his hands, his eyes tightening in analysis. A weird feeling grows inside of me. What’s wrong with my wand, to make him look at it like that?

“Interesting… Hawthorne wood… such a contradictory wood! And a phoenix feather core…” Mr. Ollivander’s frown deepens. “I don’t know… I didn’t know that they had this particular phoenix’s feathers in America…” He glances up at Dumbledore for just a second, then at Harry’s wand.

Then, the man clears his throat and waves my wand. A small flame shoots out of it, exterminating when the man waves my wand again. He quickly casts a harmless spell, leaving the floor around him covered in small rose petals.

“Perfect,” he nods and hands the wand back to me. “You have taken very good care of your wand—it very much wanted to rejoin you!” I nod and hold it close to my chest, aching to have it close to me. I feel vulnerable without it. Like if something happens, I will be helpless.

Even as the thought pops into my head, I shake it away. I won’t ever be helpless. I am from Ilvermorny, where wandless magic is constantly practiced. I can do plenty of spells with a hand movement. Perhaps not as many and not as well as with a wand, but it’s something.

“Thank you all,” Dumbledore pulls me back to the room. “You may go back to your lessons now—or perhaps it will be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—”

I’m about to follow Harry out when the camera-wielding man beside Skeeter jumps up. Bagman exclaims that the photos cannot be forgotten. Skeeter seems to still have an eye for Harry, so I keep next to him. Harry doesn’t seem to mind having a barrier between him and Rita Skeeter.

The photos take a while because no one can decide how they want us positioned. Harry in front? The half-veela girl? I allow myself to be moved however I’m told, my focus being on Mr. Ollivander’s odd interest and words about my wand.

I’m getting tired of all the mystic comments. Between the centaur’s warning and Mr. Ollivander’s behavior…

It all makes for nerve-wracking days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no Snape in this one :(  
I'm a few chapters ahead writing-wise, and I'm so excited to share everything with you guys.  
Please leave kudos and comments if you like the story so far!  
xx


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick one! Hope you enjoy it!

I imagine hands on my sides, a moan in my ear. My fingers intertwined in black hair, my lips on his neck while he pulls me close. Hips together…

It’s just another day in Potions, and my cauldron is under a simmering heat while I wait for time to pass. The worst part of brewing is the waiting. I have all the energy to continue on but can’t. Not if I don’t want to fail the assessment.

It’s a small quiz-equivalent assignment. Severus doesn’t even supervise, just expects us to deliver a labeled jar of potion to him at the end of class for him to review later. Instead, he works on his own brewing at the front of the class.

I frown at him. He is wearing his dragon skin boots, as usually, but he’s wearing dragon skin gloves as well. It’s odd for him. Such gloves are very useful in Hagrid’s class, but here? I keep observing him, but there’s nothing odd about him otherwise.

Severus doesn’t wear gloves unless he absolutely has to. I’ve seen the man touch poisonous ingredients with bare skin. He’s quick, and doesn’t end up with a rash, but it makes me nervous every time. Even though I know he’s more than fully capable.

The potion he’s making seems to be a sleeping potion of some kind, I determine from his ingredients. I don’t know what kind—he seems to follow a recipe book in his head when he brews. The instructions in my many Potions books do not apply to him. Yet he’s the most talented potion-master that I’ve ever met. Perhaps he allows more creativity into his work than the rest of us do.

Is it about confidence? I look at my potion. Is it a sense of when to start the next step that he has, or were all of his tricks determined from trial-and-error?

Next to me, Aggie has just started the long waiting period and sits down for the first time in an hour. A bead of sweat runs down her brown temple.

“So, how’s studying with Mandie?” I ask.

Aggie blushes. “She’s so smart. Her solutions are creative—both simpler and yet more complex than how I’ve always done them.”

“Okay, but _how is studying with Mandie_?” I ask, nudging her side with my elbow.

Aggie swallows and looks at her hands. My eyes widen and I smile. “Something happened! What was it?”

“Last night. We… we almost kissed.”

“Almost?”

“We didn’t get close on purpose, it just happened—”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“It did! Anyway, we were so close, about to do it, when Ben bloody storms in.”

I throw my head back and groan. “Oh no.”

“We kicked him out quickly, but it was over at that point. Merlin, I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never kissed a girl before.”

I shrug. “Neither have I.”

Aggie squints at me, trying to assess my sincerity. “Do you… want to?”

I smile softly. “Not at the moment.”

“Yeah? Because of Ben?”

I tilt my head. It’s true that I’ve thought about kissing Ben. Or, more accurately, what I’m going to do when he kisses me. Ben likes to look at my lips, and sometimes I want him to kiss me. I do like Ben—but I don’t think I could ever be in a relationship with him. I just… I keep from looking at Severus. There is another man on my mind.

“Maybe,” I shrug. “I’m also really busy with school, and with the Tournament…”

Aggie grabs my hand and squeezes. It’s not often that I talk about the Tournament, and my friends (minus Nora) don’t bring it up unless I do.

My wand starts glowing softly, and I know my potion is ready for further attention. I stand up and get to work, immediately getting so focused that the rest of my stress and worries dissolve away. Another half-hour must pass, but it feels like only a minute. When my potion is cooled off, I carefully pour it into a jar and label it with my name—on the inside of the jar lid with a charm.

I am in a room with other Slytherins, after all. And other desperate students needing a good grade in this class.

I carefully take my jar up to Severus. He is distracted by his own brewing, so I set my jar down on his desk and lean against the closest empty student desk and wait. I close my eyes, and my thoughts turn to the sky. An American blue sky, a sun that warms every inch of me. Clouds that leave me damp, but I can speed up enough that the moisture is gone in a few seconds—

“Miss Burke?”

I blink a few times. My wand is spinning in my hand absent-mindedly. Severus raises an eyebrow at me. I look around—all the students are still brewing.

“Sorry,” I clear my throat and turn to him. “I finished. I was wondering where you wanted me to put my potion,” I gesture to the jar.

“The empty shelf,” he tilts his head to the side. I nod and pick up my jar, carefully placing it on the wooden shelf.

Returning to Severus, who appears to be done with his own potion, I ask, “So what do you want me to do now?”

“Pardon?”

“I finished the assignment,” I smile slightly. “Is there something I can start early for next class? Homework you can tell me about early?” I wink conspiratorially. “I do like having a free weekend.”

“You’re free to leave,” he answers. Blunt. Gotcha.

I shrug and walk away, saying farewell. At my clean station, I grab my bag and wish Aggie luck. I have enough time to take a shower after a couple of hours brewing now. Which I’m grateful for—my blonde hair doesn’t hide the oil from sweat and magical fumes well at all.

In the common room, I see Ben. I smile at him, and he waves me over. I plop down next to him on the couch. There’s no one else here—all the students are in class or elsewhere.

“What’s up?” I ask, smiling. Ben’s dressed down. He’s shed his school robes, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He lounges in the way some boys can—looking cool just sitting there. There’s something off about his energy.

“Nothing. Got out of Muggle Studies early.”

“How come you’re in that class anyway?” I ask. “You’re a pureblood.”

For a moment, Ben’s face darkens. “Maybe that’s why I’m taking it.” He seems offended, hurt. I frown, genuine guilt striking my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re… you’re not like some of them.”

He looks at me, lazy eyes trailing around my face. I shiver. “You know, you’re a pureblood too,” Ben says. “You may not have been raised like the rest of us, but Eris…” His expression is genuine. “You could be the queen of the wizarding world and I don’t think anyone would mind.”

My lips part at those words. By now, I’ve figured out that Ben is intoxicated in some way. I can’t smell alcohol or anything else—but there are easy spells that cover that up.

Before I can respond to him, Ben puts his hand on my cheek. Our faces are close, only inches apart. “Do you want this?” he asks.

“Do you?” I ask, wary of his intoxicated state.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you,” Ben says without hesitation, and pulls me to his lips.

Our lips touch, and it’s like something has been released inside me. He is warm, soft. I grab his shirt and pull him closer, wrinkling the nice fabric in my hand. This awakens something in him, too, and he pulls me into his lap.

As soon as I feel his hard-on underneath me, I pull away from him.

“You’re high, Ben,” I whisper.

“I’m sobering up,” he whispers back.

I smile sadly and shake my head. “Another time, maybe.” I dismount him and stand up. I offer my hand, to let him stand, but he waves it away. He looks disappointed, but there is still a lustful warmth to his eyes that makes me want to sit right back down on his lap.

But that’s likely just my own… general desire coming through to the surface.

“I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you later, Ben,” I nod once, keeping a pleasant smile on my face until I’m in my room.

When the door locks behind me, the smile drops. I push the butt of my palms into my eyes and groan. Merlin, Eris. I seem to really like complicating my life.

If Ben was a flirty puppy before, he’s going to be a lusty hound following me around now. And it’s my fault. My heart clenches. Guilt. The boy actually likes me. Wants to be my boyfriend, maybe. But it’s not the same for me.

I take a long, long shower. I think about black eyes and wicked sneers the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ben... Anyway, next chapter moves on with the plot and has some interesting Severus moments. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And leave kudos + comment if you enjoyed!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Eris's first time at Hogsmeade!

Before long, the first Hogsmeade weekend of my Hogwarts experience arrives. Nora, Ben, and Aggie give me the tour of the town. For the first time in a while, I feel truly connected to my friends. I’ve been a hermit lately—besides meals and going to class. My free time is dominated by researching the tournament, staying on top of my studies, and trying to figure out who entered my name and why they did it.

Besides classwork, my other free time pursuits have been uneventful.

Nora takes responsibility for leading the escapade, and by the end we are all laughing. My cousin is alive with joy, but she tends to focus on small details important to her rather and glosses over the big, important details. Aggie provides valuable supplemental information. Such as pointing out the building that Nora ignored to me as a shop with lots of potions ingredients.

When we get to The Three Broomsticks, I’m expecting a Slytherin hangout. When I notice all the different types of people, of all different ages and Houses, I playful glare at my cousin. She grins and points at a table were a group of sixth year Slytherin girls huddle.

“It’s where _I_ hang out,” she shrugs.

I shake my head at her, laughing, while she skips away to join her friends. Ben grins as we sit down at a table. He’s been… familiar lately. Aggie can tell something happened; I can feel her suspicions. He hasn’t talked about the kiss, and neither have I. We are in a bizarre state of limbo until one of us decides to break the silence. And for now, I have absolutely no plans to do so.

“You could’ve corrected her,” I point out to them.

“Oh, I know,” Ben grins. For a moment, he is nothing but handsome. The kiss didn’t change the way that he smiles with cleverness and cunning. He can be just as stunning as before. And I notice it just like before, too.

Aggie orders for me, and I trust her to do so. She knows what’s good here, she assures me. I end up sipping on a butterbeer and sharing wizard bar food when I notice Hermione. Near her, Ron Weasley sits with his brothers and their friend. She acts oddly—whispering but trying not to move her lips.

I excuse myself from my friends and approach her.

“Hey, Hermione,” I smile at her. She jumps at my voice, seemingly focused on something else. “What are you working on?”

“Oh… SPEW.”

“Excuse me?” I raise my eyebrows.

“I’m working on getting house elves better wages and vacation time—things like that.”

I tilt my head, amused. “Yeah? Is this a club, or a general movement?”

Hermione looks shocked. Like she hasn’t ever considered someone being interested. The list of members in front of her is small.

“Both!”

I smile. “May I sit? And you can tell me about it?” She nods.

Her face becomes panicked when I pull out a chair. The chair doesn’t move, the resistance of a body holding it down. I didn’t guess that there was an actual person in the chair, but there was definitely something odd about this spot.

Hermione stares at me in frozen worry. I don’t acknowledge the chair, just choose another one to sit at by her side. Still looking at her, I tilt my head.

“Who am I joining?”

“Me,” Harry Potter responds. “You almost sat on me!”

I chuckle. “_Almost _being a key word. And those things happen when you’re running around invisible in crowded restaurants. So, is it a potion,” I glance at Hermione, “or a charm?”

“A cloak,” Harry admits.

“Interesting,” I say truthfully. I’ve never encountered an invisibility cloak. “How are you doing, Harry?” I make sure to keep my eyes on Hermione, and she does the same.

There’s a second of silence. “I’m alright. You?”

“I hate the stares,” I shrug. “Of course, you have it worse than me. It does seem that there’s something going on at Hogwarts, though. With the professors. The other day, I went to Hagrid’s hut to grab him something and saw a lot of odd equipment. What do you guys think? Have anything to do with the Tournament, or am I paranoid?”

Hermione is about to reply when Moody and Hagrid join us. They don’t sit, just stand around us. Moody’s eye is focused on the empty space Harry sits at, and Hagrid looks giddy with a secret. As always, I get a jolt of adrenaline when I see Professor Moody. DADA has been relatively calm compared to taking a poisonous bite to the shoulder, but I still take note of my wand up my sleeve.

“Nice cloak, Potter,” Moody says, giving me a cursory once-over before losing interest.

Harry’s tone is shocked. “Can your eye—I mean, can you—?”

“Yes, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks,” Moody explains.

Then, Hagrid whispers, “Harry, Eris, meet me t’night at midnight at me cabin. Can ya share the cloak?”

I glance at invisible Harry.

“Yes,” he answers.

Hagrid straightens up and loudly says goodbye to me and Hermione. For a moment, the three of us are quiet. Then, Harry asks Hermione’s opinion on _that_ weird behavior.

Hermione glances at me warily. “It might make you late for…” she starts before catching herself.

I raise my eyebrows. “What appointments do you have so late at night, Harry?”

Harry clears his throat, and Hermione pales. I frown at their secrecy. Hermione opens her mouth, but I shake my head.

“Listen. I don’t want to get up in your business. You don’t have to tell me anything. But if you need help with anything, or just want someone that’s not a Professor’s opinion, I’m here. As a friend.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out the first challenge,” Hermione says. “But I’m coming up short. There’s nothing to go on.”

I frown. “Let’s see what Hagrid wants to show us tonight. Hopefully it’s relevant to that, and not just a pregnant skrewt.”

“Thank you, Eris,” Harry says as I’m pushing my chair in.

I smile at a space of nothing. “Any time. If you find anything out about the challenge, let me know. I’ll do the same. And between my freedom as a seventh year and Hermione’s brain, we’ll figure out how to survive.”

With that, I return to my friends.

* * *

Aggie and I pull ourselves to the shop with potions ingredients as a last stop before going back to Hogwarts. We lost Ben an hour ago to a group of mixed-House seventh year boys. For a moment, I remember that he was high that day we kissed. I wonder if they’ll smoke before heading back to school, or if it’s just general boy foolishness.

When we get inside, Aggie and I drift apart. Our interests take us in different places. I head towards Healing potions and ingredients. Aggie heads in the direction of the shop’s books.

I am inspecting a jar of Gillyweed when I hear weight shift on the wood floor behind me. My wand is out, pointed at the assailant, my body in a position to cast. My heart screams in my ears, my whole body prepared to run if casting isn't an option. 

But the dark-robed man I see is not one of the ones that haunts my nightmares. Severus stands, an eyebrow raised, body relaxed. Even with my want buzzing with the energy of my adrenaline, he doesn’t even seem to be afraid. Not even hesitant.

I squint at him, but don’t lower my wand.

“What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Shopping,” Severus replies. “I am a Potions Master after all. And this is a potions shop.”

I sneer. “You were sneaking up behind me.”

If anything, Severus looks… amused. He’s getting a kick out of seeing me unsettled. My hand tightens on my wand, and I can almost hear it reply in turn. It’s eager. It’s been ages since I was in a duel, since I was running combat drills in America with my friends…

I take a deep, deep breath. I pull the air down into my stomach before releasing it slowly. In just a second, my wand is back in my sleeve, my posture is back to a normal stance, and I’ve wiped all annoyance and anger from my expression.

My Eris Burke, pleasant Hogwarts transfer, mask settles into place and I tilt my head at my Professor.

There’s a light in the man’s eyes that I’ve never seen before. An… excitement. He steps toward me until he’s standing right in front of me. He’s taller than me by at least six inches. My face is tilted up towards his, not in expectation but… observation. His eyes don’t leave mine.

His gaze has taken on something like a dark black flame. Burning. Consuming. He reaches right past my cheek--my heart stops in expectation--just to get his own jar of Gillyweed. He pulls the jar off of the shelf and holds it in one hand by his side. 

But right before I think he’ll step away, Severus murmurs, “You’ll do excellently in any challenge those fools can think of.” His eyes flicker around my face. Observing, just as I do to him. “Who are you, Eris Burke?” he asks. “What is it that lies just underneath the surface?”

His words rob my lungs of their memory of how to breathe. I know exactly what lies underneath the surface. But… no one else ever figured that out about me. 

Before I can respond—if I could ever even get to that point of processing his words, his expressions—he’s gone. He must Apparate to purchase the Gillyweed, or he already paid for it, or—I don’t care, but my mind is spinning, and it doesn’t stop when Aggie turns the corner just a second after he disappears.

“Hey,” she greets me, holding a worn blue book. She looks at the Gillyweed still in my hand. “Are you going for a swim or something?”

I shake my head and replace the jar on the shelf. My heart is still pounding when we get back to Hogwarts, but I’ve settled back into myself enough to keep them from worrying, from noticing anything is wrong.

Because something is wrong. Severus Snape has seemingly been able to read me like a book. And my story is not one that I want shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting schedule is so inconsistent, I'm sorry! I post a chapter when I have the feeling to, which is awful, I know. Anyway, finally some Severus for everyone! Yay!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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